


Backpfeifengesicht

by inabsolutes



Series: Lost in Translation [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: F/M, I Like Ojisans and I Cannot Lie, Mental Anguish, Multi, NOT CANON WITH US/UM, Other, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, gonna edit formatting tomorrow, references to depression and suicide, whatever man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 114,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabsolutes/pseuds/inabsolutes
Summary: (noun.) A face badly in need of a fist.Or in other words, only one of the many terms that you could use to describe the Kahuna of Ula'ula island.However, when circumstances conspire to drive the two of you together, you find yourself forced to reevaluate your opinion of him in a way that you could have never expected.





	1. Hey, They Never Said Rome Wasn't Built In a Week

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this reader character is the same one from between | the lines: but if you don't want to go digging through that, here's the gist.
> 
> The female player character(read: you) is aged up to about late teens/early twenties; her father is missing because he died in Kanto, and she has unrequited feelings for Professor Kukui. 
> 
> If you read all that, shoot, let's get ready to (poké) rumble!

     The one thing that no one ever tells you about becoming the champion of anything is that people are constantly trying to take your title. And if it applied to whoever could eat the most  _malasada_ in one sitting, it sure applied to whoever was the Champion of the Pokémon League.

     Fortunately(or unfortunately), the person who was the Champion of the Alolan Pokémon League was you. After being forced to endure eight (?!) consecutive battles in a row with people who wanted to also to be the Champion, you begin to wish for the days where you were simply a Pokémon trainer.

     They, at least, could just complete their Pokédex and hang out with their friends whenever they wanted.

     During one of the (rare) days where no one comes to challenge the Pokémon League, you offer to help Professor Kukui with his field research, and luckily enough, he agrees. You don't often get to see him, so you jump at the chance of meeting up, even if the time spent with him was short. 

     While studying the _very_ interesting (read: not very interesting at all) phenomenon of why certain patches of grass rustle and what Pokémon were know to cause it, your conversation drifts off to different topics.       

     "It's a shame," Kukui sighs. "Po Town used to be one of those hidden getaways that the locals loved to visit."

     You have trouble picturing Po Town as anything but the hot mess that it was currently, but you ask him, "Really?"

     "Yeah! Well, it was a long time ago," Kukui muses, and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Probably maybe about half a decade ago or more. I remember that I used to play hooky from work so that I could go and visit, ha-ha! They used to serve the best _loco moco_ at one of the Pokémon Centers there."

     "I could do it," you say immediately, and Kukui is taken aback. "Fix up Po Town, I mean."

     "You think so, cousin?" He cups his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. The Champion doesn't usually just Pokémon battle- they're responsible for the welfare of the region, as well. You could take it on as one of your responsibilities."

     "It shouldn't be too hard," you say. "The town wasn't in terrible shape when I was last there- there's only some graffiti and overgrown bushes. I bet I could get it done in a week."

     "Woo! That's some wager you've placed there, cousin!" He grins. "Hey, why can't you get it done in a week? You're the Champ, after all! Say, if you get that place cleaned up, I'll free up my schedule for once and we'll have a big celebration! Lillie's supposed to be visiting from Kanto soon, anyway. We'll get all of the old gang back!"

    "It'll be like old times," you say. 

    "Exactly," he nods. Kukui then adds, "Make sure you get permission from the Kahuna before you do it, though." 

     You assure him you will, and point to a spot in the grass. "Hey, that's rustling!"

     When you finish conducting the research experiment with him, you go your separate ways. On the way back to your house, you think on the conversations you've had today- but more importantly, the bet that you've made.      

     It really didn't seem like that much work, to be honest. You defeated the leader of a gang and saved the Alola region from city-terrorizing monsters! In comparison to those feats, cleaning up a small town should be a cake walk. 

     And who knows? It could be a welcome break from the Pokémon battles you were constantly being challenged to as Champion, and people say that painting, gardening and home repair are pretty therapeutic, anyway. 

     A small voice hisses inside you, that's not exactly the truth, is it?

    _I'll free up my schedule..._

 _It'll be like_ _old times._

     You wave away those unhappy, ingenuous thoughts, and try to focus only on the task you've set for yourself ahead.

     But you secretly hope you aren't in over your head.

 

* * *

 

       Even though you don't exactly have high hopes that the Kahuna of Ula'ula Island would help you in your reconstruction efforts, you figure there's no harm in asking him. After all, Nanu had chased that Ultra Beast, Guzzlord, into Resolution Cave- he couldn't be THAT bad. 

      ....although you still weren't sure if he remembered your name, due to his calling you either 'girl' or 'kid' whenever he saw you.

      A couple of days after your conversation with Professor Kukui, you fly to Po Town's police station and knock on the door. "Hello?"

      There's no answer: but you're not one to be deterred so easily, so you say again, "Hello? Is anyone there?" You can see a sliver of light from inside the building, and notice that the door is slightly ajar. 

      You push open the door. It creaks open, and you tiptoe in. You call out, "Kahuna Nanu? It's me," you say your name.

      You nearly trip over a sleeping Meowth, and realize that there must be at least five of them in the police station. After lifting the small Pokémon off its resting place at the front door onto a nearby carpet, you peer around the room. There's Meowth hair everywhere, and you pick some of it off your clothing. You say softly into the dimly-lit room, "Officer Nanu?"

      A hoarse voice says from behind you, "That's my name: don't wear it out, kid."

      You yelp in surprise, and jump at least a foot in the air. You turn around to see Nanu, standing next to a microwave in an area of the police station that you had never seen before.

      "Sorry for intruding, Officer. My name is-"

     "Hmph... I know who you are," he says, and takes the dinner out of the microwave. He then takes a seat on the couch and turns on the TV.

     "So," Nanu props up his sandal-clad feet on the couch and peels off the plastic wrapper to his readymade meal. "Why are you here, girl?"

     "Well, I figured I should start fulfilling some of my duties to Alola, considering I was just made Champion a couple of months ago," you say, and curse yourself for the hesitation present in your voice. "Po Town's still a mess, even though it's no longer really controlled by Team Skull. I'm sure plenty of people'd appreciate it if the place was cleaned up."

      Nanu flicks through the channels on the TV, and spoons some of his food into a curled-up Meowth's mouth. It purrs in appreciation, and he pets it on the head.

      After a annoyingly long wait of watching him lazily flip through channel after channel after channel, Nanu opens his mouth to speak. "Why bother?" he asks, finally.

      You narrow your eyes slightly and raise an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

     "Some things aren't worth the time or effort to be worth bothering with," Nanu continues. "That town is one of them."

    _What? How could he give up without even trying...?_

      "I heard that Po Town used to be really nice," you say. "That people used to come there to vacation or to take a break from the city. But right now, it doesn't even have a functioning Pokémon Center."

      Nanu shrugs. "Fix the Pokémon Center, then."

      Your lips tighten into a thin line. "I don't think many nurses would work at a Pokémon Center in a town where there's graffiti on the streets or broken windows in the houses, ha-ha." you say, laughing to disguise the exasperation in your voice.

      "You asking me to help you out with Po Town? Not worth it," he says, and continues to flick through the channels on the TV. "It's a lot of hassle for not a lot of thanks."

       Trying to not get irritated, you insist, "It would be great for the locals, and for the people of Ula'ula Island. But-" you cut him off as Nanu opens his mouth to protest, "You don't have to help out if you don't want to. And if it's a lot of hassle- well, that's my decision to make, isn't it?"

       Nanu sighs. "I guess everyone has their own reasons for doing what they do. Do what you want."

       He then turns to you and scoffs. "Don't clean the town up too well, girl. No one's asking you to- you'll drive up the cost of rent."

       "Okay," you say, and figure that's as much of a blessing Nanu's capable (or willing) of giving to you, so you roll up your sleeves and get to work.

 

* * *

   
       Unfortunately for you, it had been a while since your last visit to Po Town, and the condition of the small dwelling was either even WORSE than you had remembered, or had deteriorated further since then.

       Neither possibility sounded particularly appealing.

       You grit your teeth and assess the damage. Upon entering, you can see that much of the sidewalk and streets have been tagged with graffiti, as well as the sides of some of the houses. Many of the houses had broken windows, and the boards that make up their walls broken, missing or both.

       After traversing the town, you decide that a trip to some kind of store would probably be in order, and fly to the Thrifty Megamart on Royal Avenue. 

      You think back on the condition of the town, and decide that the graffiti was, by far, the damage that stood out  the most. (It was also coincidentally probably the easiest thing to fix in the town as well.)

      You pile as many canisters of paint(labeled water-resistant) in every muted shade of red, grey, beige, and white as can possibly fit in your cart, as well as several different types of paintbrushes. 

      "Wow, that's a lot of paint!" the cashier remarks, while ringing up your items. "Redecorating your house?"

      _Yeah, sure, if I lived in a cemetery or hospital, maybe._

"Something like that," you laugh, and pay for your purchase.

      Upon your return to the police station, you drop your purchases inside the room with a thud. 

      Nonplussed, Nanu looks up from his oatmeal and says, "How'd it go? You start fixing up the place yet?"

      "Just fine," you say, a little irritated that he saw you with this heavy paint and wasn't even going to attempt to lift a finger to help. "I'm going to start with painting over the graffiti."

    "Okay, whatever you say." Nanu shrugs nonchalantly. "Nobody'll blame you if you give up and run on home, kid."

      "I won't give up," you stubbornly say, and lug the bag of paint canisters and brushes over your back. "Po Town's going to be great."

 

* * *

       

       With the assistance from your Pokémon, you lug several canisters of differently colored paint and paintbrushes into the town. You pant, and put your hands on your thighs after dropping them by the side of the curb. It's a good omen- it isn't raining for once, so you decide to start painting immediately. 

       You push your hair back and breathe,  "Okay, time to get to work."

       You slap paint on the poorly spray-painted skull, and spread it around with a large paintbrush. It's a lot of hard work, and you make a mental note to employ the help of Smeargles in the future. 

       After you cover up the skull with matching paint, you put your hands on your hips and grin.

      " _Oh, you should just run on home, kid_ ," you sarcastically mutter to yourself, in a poor imitation of Nanu's voice. "Pfft. See? It wasn't that hard...."

       And then you see a drop of rain fall on your freshly painted sidewalk.

       Whatever. You bought water-resistant paint, you aren't dumb. No big deal.

       You hear a rumble of thunder in the distance, and that 'drop of rain' turns into a drizzle. You try not to worry, but you notice that that previous drop of water had worn away some of the paint where it had landed.

       You can just paint over it, it's not a big deal.

       But then you hear a loud CRACK! of thunder, and see lightning split across the sky.     

        _Oh, no._

       And the innocent drizzle of rain turns into a full-fledged downpour.

        _No-no-no!_

      "Seriously!? This paint is supposed to be water resistant!" you cry, as your hard work is washed away. 

       After attempting to furiously paint over most of the graffiti covered sidewalk over and over and over again, only to have it washed away, you sigh and close your eyes in frustration. The only accomplishment you had made was getting paint all over your hands and clothes and face.

      _Okay, so painting over the graffiti isn't going to work...._

       You blow up a tuft of hair, gather up your 'construction' materials, and call your Pokémon back into their pokéballs.

      "I'll be back tomorrow," you say to the now depressingly gray buildings of Po Town, and close the gate. 

 

* * *

 

      That night, after you arrive back home, you think, and think, but you can't find a solution to the graffiti in Po Town without running into snags with the ridiculous ever-present rainstorms in the area. 

      After calling all of your friends, and coming up with little helpful advice, you decide to call Professor Kukui.

     "Hey, cousin!" He waves at the PokeFinder. You are surprised to see the blueness of bags underneath his normally-energetic eyes.

      You say, concerned, "Sorry for calling so late...you're still at work?"

      He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. "You know me, I'm always working, ha-ha. Do I look that tired? What's up?"

      "Do you know of any ways to remove graffiti?"

      He smiles widely. "Started cleaning up Po Town already, huh? Woo, you work fast! Did ya try painting over it?"

      You sigh. "Yeah, but the rain just washed it away...."

      Kukui laughs, but when he takes a look at your unhappy face, he apologizes. He then looks up, lost in thought. "Hmm...then you'd think the rain would've worn away the spray paint by now. What kinda surface is the paint on?"

      "A better question is what it ISN'T on!" you nearly shout, but then you remember your mother sleeping in the room beside yours. you say softer, "It's on bricks, wood, steel- everything."

      Kukui offers, "Well, you could try _blasting_ it with water."

      Confused, you cock your head to one side. "Huh? I just pointed out that the rain didn't wear away the graffiti."

      "Yeah, but it's how _powerful_ the pressure of the water is that matters. You've heard of pressure washers, right?" he asks, but you had to admit that you weren't familiar with the concept. "Anything above 3000 psi is typically powerful enough to clear away most types of residue on a lot of surfaces. If you have any strong Water-type Pokémon, I'm sure a Hydro Pump from 'em would clear away that graffiti in no time flat."

     "I would've never thought of that!" you smile gratefully, and thank him. 

      He says, "Don't sweat it, cousin, it's what I'm here for! They didn't make me the Pokémon Professor here for nothing, yeah?"

      "Wait," you say, and raise an eyebrow. "You know that because you looked it up in a textbook, or the Pokédex, right?"

      " 'course," Kukui says, and clears his throat nervously. "But I may have had some personal experience with it-"

     You mutter, "You tested that move out on yourself, didn't you."

     "Hey, experience is the best way to learn," he points out. "And if it just so happens that experience comes in the form of a Primarina's Hydro Pump-" 

     "So you spray yourself with water-resistant paint and blast yourself with a super-powerful Pokémon move to remove it often?" 

     He laughs, and shakes his head. "Nah, nah. Man, what're you doing, busting my chops like this? I thought I'd be free after Lillie left!"

      You put your hands on your hips, and point out, "Now that Lillie's not around, you need to have SOMEONE making sure you're not going to kill yourself!"

      "Hey, I've survived this long!" He folds his arms across his chest. "You think I'd leave my wife and all you guys behind without at least warning you? You know I'd never do that to ya!"

       _Right, you'd never worry Burnet like that._

 _...because_  y _ou love her._

      Doing your best to shake off those inconvenient thoughts, you laugh, "Okay, I'll give you a break! Don't work too hard," you add.

      "Likewise, champ," he says. "Get a good night's sleep. Hey, you know that adult humans need 6-8 hours of sleep a night to function properly, yeah?"

      "You should take your own advice, Professor! Good night," you say, and turn off the Pokéfinder.

       As you sit there lying in your bed with a renewed sense of hope, you resolve to work even harder tomorrow in your efforts to clean up Po Town, and fall asleep. 


	2. Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love My Pokémon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between being shaken down for most of the money you have and graffiti-cleaning hijinks that don't go your way, you just can't catch a  
> break.
> 
> Are you sure Po Town isn't a little cursed?
> 
> You wonder if there was some kernel of truth in the words of that Kahuna, even though you hate to admit it....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unusually long for me, but I hope you guys enjoy it just the same.

     The next morning, you march into Po Town, a one-woman army with all of your Pokémon in tow. Clad in protective rain gear from head to toe, you stand akimbo at the gate of the town. 

     "A little rain isn't going to stop Alola's first Champion," you say to yourself. You then yell at the cloudy, overcast sky, "You hear that? You're not going to stop me!"

     You walk until you reach the area of sidewalk that had that stupid spray painted skull on it. Some of the paint from yesterday's attempt to cover it up had (amazingly enough) stuck around, leaving the skull's expression with less of a smile and more of a aloof sneer.

     (Just like someone _else_ you knew.)

     "We'll see who's laughing after this," you snap. You call up your Poké Ride application, search through it for a suitable Pokémon to use for this task, and stop when you spot a familiar shark-shaped silhouette. "Sharpedo should work- doesn't it learn Hydro Pump at level 47?"  
  
     You then call out the Pokémon. Sharpedo, at first very confused that it wasn't being used to ride a body of water, stares at you blankly when you command it to use Hydro Pump. 

      _Maybe it wasn't at a high enough level?_

     "Think that's Laprazzz, kiddo," your Rotomdex helpfully chirps, and you facepalm. Of course.

     Thankfully, Lapras DID know Hydro Pump, and got straight to work on wrecking the offensive artwork with water. To your amazement, the graffiti started to wear away from the sidewalk. An hour later, the skull had completely vanished from the street (and your life).  
  
     After going wild conducting graffiti-cleaning experiments with Lapras's Hydro Pump (and nearly destroying a wooden bench in the process), you come to two conclusions. 

     One: Hydro Pump IS strong enough to wear away permanent spray paint.

     Two: Unfortunately, it was a little TOO strong. The high pressure of the water would wear away spray paint residue on sturdy surfaces like bricks, stone, and paved streets- but by the same token, it also broke down less durable surface materials like wood, plastic and soft metals.

     Looking at the damaged bench, you decide that you should probably take another course of action. After all, you didn't really want to annoy Nanu enough into giving him an excuse to do his actual job (read: dragging off unfortunate criminals to jail).

     You think, and briefly contemplate asking the Trial Captains of Ula'ula for assistance. However, you realize that Sophocles, Acerola, and Mina hardly seem like the physically-inclined type, and decide that it'd be better not to bother them with your reconstruction efforts.  
  
     "Rotom," you say to your trusty Pokédex, and it flies out of your pocket.

     "What'zzzzz up, clever girl?"

     A certain Kahuna's disinterested, mocking face comes to the forefront of your mind. You wince. " _Please_ don't call me girl."

     "All right," it buzzes, and its face falls slightly. "Did you need anything, zz-zzt?"

     "Sorry, nothing against you! I was wondering if you could look up pressure washers for me?" you ask. "Specifically, how do they work? And what Pokémon are typically used to clean up graffiti?"  
  
     "Sure thing," it beeps happily, and displays a hologram of search results about everything you could possibly want to know about pressure washers. Rotom then rattles off helpful info for you. "Did you know? A Lapras's Hydro Pump can exert pressures of up to 15,000 pzzzi! That's enough to zzzaw a piece of thick plywood in half!"

     Great. So you can't just go blasting high-pressure water with Lapras at any random surface and not expect it to be blown to pieces.

     As Rotom continues to list off facts about man-made industrial pressure washers, and what Pokémon were used in wide scale urban restorations, you wonder just how strong Professor Kukui must be be able to withstand a Hydro Pump to the face.

     But then you remember Lillie's many tales of stitching him up, or even worse, rushing the Professor to a Pokémon Center when he had pushed himself too hard, and shudder.

     Rotom finishes its research with:  "There are many ways to clear away graffiti: but using high-pressure water is by far the most popular solution!"

     You breathe in, digesting Rotom's info. "Let me get this straight: If I want to remove the graffiti with water, I'll need an industrial pressure washer, because none of the Water Pokémon that specialize in graffiti removal are native to Alola," you sigh. "But there's no way that I could get it to work in Po Town, because most of the models run only at high voltages."

     Rotom zips approvingly, "You got it, bucko! They all require an external power source."

     From the lack of working lights in the Pokémon Center, you guess that Po Town didn't have access to a _functional_ power source, much less a high voltage one.

     "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way- there has to be some other way to remove the graffiti besides water." you say. "What are my alternatives?"

     "Well, you could wipe the surfaces down with oil! But that stainzzz if you're not careful," Rotom continues. "Or perhaps sand all of the zzzurfaces down with a Ground-type Pokémon's attack?"

      "Too time consuming," you sigh. "And I wouldn't even know where to start with sanding things down..."

_No wonder Po Town's been like this for so long._

     "Don't give up, partner! I believe there are hardware storezzz in Malie City where you can buy prezzzure washers. Maybe you could also buy a very long extension cord," your Pokémon offers. "and plug it into the police zzztation?"

     Envisioning the grimace that would inevitably appear on Officer Nanu's face when you suggest plugging in one of those loud machines to an outlet in his home, you shake your head. "I don't think that'd work. Besides, the police station probably doesn't have access to a power source with high enough voltage."

     You sit on the stoop of a nearby house and your shoulders slouch, dejected. 

     "Sorry, bucko...." Rotom buzzes sadly, and rests on your lap. "It'zzz too bad you can't just _make_ the pressure washer turn on."

     And with those words, it's like someone's suddenly flicked a light switch in your brain. You sit up straight.   
  
     "Rotom," you say. "You can inhabit and operate any electrical device, right?"

     "Sure," it says. "But what do you intend to do, zzzt? Don't tell me that you want me to turn into an extenzztion cord, do you?"

     "Forget the extension cord," you say, and slowly smile. "I have an idea."

 

* * *

 

     Turns out that no one at the hardware store or any other store in Malie City has even heard of a pressure washer. About half of them thought you were talking about pressure _cookers_.

     After telling some local residents about your dilemma and having them stare at you as if you had told them you could Mega Evolve, you begin to think that Professor Kukui and Rotom were just fooling around with you.

     That or you were dropped into an alternate universe without pressure washers. 

     Your search leads you to the Malie City Community Center. The front desk is staffed by a kindly looking older man, whose round face reminds you a little bit of a Hoothoot's. 

     Well, at least he doesn't look at you like you've sprouted five heads. "What's a young lady like yourself want with a pressure washer?" the older man asks. 

     "Home repair?" you offer, and the man scratches his head. 

     "Hmm...." he looks at you over his glasses, then flips through a thick dusty book. "I believe...."

     ".....you're in luck, little lady." You  release the breath you hadn't been aware you'd been holding. The owlish man continues, "We should have one in the back- it was used a long time ago to clean up some of the ships at the marina. You can borrow it for as long as you want- it's not like anyone here is using it!"

     "Thank you so much!" you say gratefully. "Do you know how the device is powered?"

       "It's pretty old- we don't have any of those newfangled machines that run on solar or wind," he says sadly. "Is electric okay? You'll probably need a generator to run it."

     You nod. "Electric is great!"      

     The older man leads you into the basement of the community center, and you spot an old, dusty machine with various wires and dials coming out of it. You guess that's the machine you're looking for. Needing no prompting from you, Rotom vanishes into the hulking, mysterious device. You wait. And wait.

     The dead silence persists for seemingly forever, and your heart drops into your stomach.  

_Wrong again..._

     Rotom's face suddenly appears on the bizarre contraption, and it grins back at you. The machine roars to life, and you smile and jump up and down in elated surprise. 

     How's _that_ for using your head?

     Rotom buzzes happily, "You've done it, clever girl! Let'zzz get thizzz show on the road!"  You nod, so happy that something's finally gone right for ONCE that you let the nickname slide.

     Before heading back to Po Town to work, you head into the Malie City PMC to take a load off and rest. You hadn't visited a Pokémon Center cafe in a couple of weeks, and could really go for a Komala Coffee, or Roserade Tea, or Tapu Cocoa....

     Your Rotom, however, is beyond thrilled with its new body. Delighted, it hums and whirrs as you wait on the drink line for the cafe. "Thizzz izzz zzzo exciting! I've never inhabited any machine besidezzz the Pokédex before, zz-zzt!"

     You laugh and pat your Pokémon. "And if you're lucky, you'll be in there all day!"

     The barista clears his throat, and says to you, "E-excuse me, m-miss. What would y-you like to order?" His eyes bulge out of his head.

     "Huh?" The line had moved faster than you thought, and you look around. People's stares are fixed on you and your Pokémon, and you realize that a walking, talking possessed machine with all these tubes and knobs jutting out of it must be a strange sight.

     You laugh awkwardly and apologize. "S-sorry. Can I get a Roserade Tea?"

     After receiving your drink from a very freaked out barista, you scan the cafe for an open table. A finger taps you on the arm, and a distinct, high-pitched voice asks: "Is that a new type of Ghost Pokémon?  Cool!"

     You peer down to see a young violet-haired girl clad in a patchwork dress smiling up at you. "Hey, Acerola!"

     "Heya, big sis!" Acerola says. She had taken to calling you big sis after finding out (to her dismay) that you were too young to be called Auntie. "Need a seat?" You nod and follow her to a table. 

     "Wow! It looks like a Rotom-W," Acerola gasps. She peers around the machine and looks your Rotom up and down. "But it's in a weird device- it's not a washing machine, right?"

     You nod your head. "In a kind of  way, it is- it's a pressure washer! It's used for clearing away dirt and grime away from all kinds of surfaces. I had my Rotom from my Pokédex inhabit the machine so it would work." And even though you had just become an authority on the subject a few hours ago, you feel proud of your accomplishments.

     Acerola rests her hands on her chin and takes a huge sip of her Tapu Cocoa. "Huh! What do you need that for, big sis?"

     "Oh, um...." you think about whether to inform Acerola about your project, and decide to tell her: she wouldn't make fun of you for for trying, at least. "I'm fixing up Po Town."

     "You are?" Acerola pouts. "Why didn't you ask me to help you out?"

     You kneel down to meet her eyes. "Sorry... It's a lot of hard work for a kid," you say gently. "I didn't want to ask that from you. I know you're busy with your duties as Trial Captain and with the League."

     Her eyes widen. "And it isn't for you?"

     "I'm the Champion." you smile. "Nothing's too much work for me. Besides, I was able to ask for a week of leave." 

     "Big Sis, you're really something, huh?" Acerola exclaims. She puts a finger to her forehead and thinks. "You know, Uncle Nanu works at the police station near Po Town. He's a great police officer- I'm sure that Uncle Nanu'd help you out if you asked him!"

      Now, you very much doubt that. If Professor Kukui couldn't get Nanu to join the Elite Four when he asked, how could you expect him to help you with fixing up Po Town? The professor could probably make a killing selling ice to people who lived in Snowpoint City, while your skills of persuasion were adequate at best.

     "That's fine," you say. "I don't want to bother him too much."

     Perhaps thinking the same thing to herself, Acerola says, "Maybe you're right. I'm not sure how much help he would be..." She grins. "We wouldn't want to break his poor, fragile bones! Uncle Nanu already has so much work running the police station, and keeping a good eye on things."

     (Acerola'd probably need to clarify her exact definition of 'work' for you in the future.)

     Tea leaves swirl inside the bottom of your cup, which was now drained of liquid. You take this as a sign to leave, and stand up. 

     "Aww," Acerola says. "You have to leave already? It's only been a half hour.... Sure there's nothing that I can do to help you out?"

     "Sorry, I have to get back to work," you apologize. "You can always come and visit me at Po Town whenever you're free!"

     "OK," she says, but her downcast gaze speaks volumes of her disappointment. You don't like seeing Acerola unhappy, so you think of something she can do. 

     "You know what?" you say, and turn to the young girl. "You can advertise for a nurse position in the Po Town Pokémon Center! I'll try to finish fixing it in a few days, and we'll need Pokémon nurses to work there-

     "Yay!" she squeals, and hugs you so tight that you're certain your ribs crack. What was that about Acerola being not so physically inclined? Ouch.

     A wide smile spreads across her face, and she continues, "I'll ask twice as much people to make up for your not being able to! It'd be pretty hard to refuse a Trial Captain AND an Elite Four member, don't cha think?"

     "Thanks, Acerola! I knew I could count on you," you say, and rub your still aching chest.

     "No problemo!" Acerola grins. "When I'm done with those folks, you'll have so many people to interview that you'll have trouble getting the Po Town gate closed!"    

     You laugh, and after saying goodbye to Acerola, take your leave from the Malie City Pokémon Center. But in your head, you kinda hope she was kidding about that last part.

 

* * *

     

     When you return to Po Town, you stop dead in your tracks as you see a brand new skull spray-painted on the sidewalk you swore you had cleaned up just a few hours prior.

     Right next to the curb, a young woman sporting bright fuchsia pink hair shakes a canister labeled _SMEARGLETEX! PERMANENT SPRAY PAINT,_ and adds on more details to her street art masterpiece.

     Before she can undo even more of your hard work, you run over to her and ask indignantly, "What are you _doing?"_  
  
     She shrugs. "I'm tagging the sidewalk. Makin' my mark on the world." The young woman then turns to you and places a hand on her hip. "You got a problem with it?"

     You briefly contemplate blasting _her_ with a Hydro Pump, but decide that doing that would be very un-Champion-like of you. "Please don't do that."

     The young woman's jaw moves up and down as the she chews a piece of gum. "Why not? What you tryin' to do here, anyhow?"

     "What I'm trying to do," you say exasperatedly, "is clean this place up. If you keep spraying paint everywhere, you're going to make my job a lot harder. Also, why a skull? Team Skull was disbanded," you point out.   
  
     "Who said I'm doing this for Team Skull?" she asks, and pops a bubble of gum. "I'm not part of that organization anymore. I'm a Punk Girl now- and doing whatever I feel like. Not like anyone's going to stop me."

     Well, YOU had to stop her, if no one else would. "The people that used to live here'd like it a lot if Po Town was remodeled. Since Team Skull isn't around anymore, it's a good opportunity to rebuild and fix up the city-"

     "What?! This place is like, an institution-" the female Grunt (or not?) protests, and you sigh. "It should be, like, protected by the Pokémon League as a monument or a national park or something! You can't just kick me out because you want to build luxury condos!"

     Considering the current state of Po Town, you think it'd be difficult to argue that the small locale shouldn't be torn down, much less sanctified as a national monument.

     "Look, I'm not trying to kick you out- if you want to live here, that's okay with me." you say, and think on the previous grunts that had run off from the Pokémon Center after selling you that Skull Tank. "If I give you 10,000 Pokédollars, will you just let me clean up the place?"

     "You're not going to boot me out? " She looks up, briefly considering it. "Make it 20,000, and you've got a deal."

     You choke out, " _20,000 Pokédollars?!"_

     The Punk Girl places a hand on her hip. "Yep. Then I'll get out of your hair, lady."

     "You promise?"

     "I already said I would! You gonna give me the money or not? There's plenty of paint still left in this can," she threatens, and you find yourself forced to comply with her unreasonable demands.

     She snatches the wad of Pokédollars out of your hand, and flips through the bills to make sure every Pokédollar is there.

     The Punk Girl smiles at you disingenuously. "Thanks, lady- I'll tell all my friends about this!"

     "No, please don't," you begin to object, but she puts music-blasting headphones in her ears and walks off. You sigh, not willing to expend the effort on chasing after her, and continue with your clean-up efforts. 

 

* * *

     

     Just how boring is being an ex-Team Skull Grunt that they have the time to spray paint everywhere?

     Apparently it was either pretty boring, or word traveled fast about the naïve Pokémon trainer who was forking over money to anyone who tagged the side of a building or a street. 

     You look inside your wallet and see a quickly depleting wad of Pokédollar bills. Paying off ex-Team Skull Grunts and random delinquents wasn't exactly a sustainable solution. What was to stop them from coming back and asking for even more money? At this rate, you'd run out of money pretty quick. Looks like you'd be doing most of the reconstruction and repair work for the dilapidated houses by yourself- there would be not enough money to hire a construction crew.

     After being shaken down one too many times, you've just about had it with this place: with the stubborn, money-hungry grunts, with the constant rain, with the random graffiti in the street-

    And with this particular Punk Guy that's (you can't even believe it)  _dancing_ on a truck covered in paint. 

     You yell, "Can you-"

     Deaf to your pleas, the young man continues to dance to whatever kind of music was playing from the speakers of his boom box.

     "Excuse me-" you say. "I need you to-"

     "Mmm, oh YEAH!" He covers his ears and continues to sing and dance to the excruciatingly loud music.

     In between song transitions, you seize your chance. You shout at him, "Can you PLEASE get off the truck?!"

     The grunt stops dancing, lowers the volume on his boombox and looks down at you. "Hey, you're that goody-goody Pokémon Trainer my friends were tellin' me 'bout! Okay, I'll get outta here if you just give me 20 Gs."

     Wonderful. This Punk Guy had heard of your generosity as well.  
  
     You open your mouth to protest. "I-I can't."

     His eyes narrow. "Why not? You paid my friends, right? Why can't you pay me?"

     You clench your jaw. Extortion was a _crime_ , right?! Where were the police when you needed them?

     Well, you knew the answer to that question- the 'police' was currently lounging around inside his house flipping through endless TV channels, and playing with his forty Meowth. You then decide you'd rather eat your own hat than ask him for help.

     You begin, "Please, listen-"

     The Punk Guy takes one look at you and rolls his eyes. "Hey, miss. _Why_ should I listen to you? You won't pay me. Whatcha gonna do if I don't get off?" he shrugs. "I don't got no healthy Pokémon, so you can't even challenge me to a battle."

     You scratch your head in frustration and have to bite back a yell. "It's for the greater good!"

     The probably-not-a-Team-Skull Grunt lets out a derisive laugh, and you clench your fists. "Greater good never got me paid! And until you give me a good reason, kid," he continues, using one of those nicknames that you so disliked again. "I ain't going nowhere from this truck."

     As you wonder if it's too late to ask for an advance on your League salary or for a loan from your mom, your ears pick up on the soft sound of cheap sandals slapping against the wet pavement of the empty street.

     "....you should do it because she's _asking_ you, boy." You hear a familiar deep, raspy voice say from behind you, and turn around to see Nanu, his Persian by his side. "And nicely, at that. Hmph. If it were me, I would've kicked your sorry ass off that truck and left the kind nurses at the Pokémon Center to deal with your medicals."

     The young man puts his hands on his hips. "We got a problem, Officer?"

     "Guess you could say that." He twists his charcoal-black Z-ring around his wrist absentmindedly while maintaining eye contact with the Team Skull grunt. "You gonna get off the damn truck or not? If you won't, I'm happy to get my Pokémon to come and help you out-"

     "Okay, okay, old man, geez!" the young man immediately puts his hands in front of his face and waves them frantically. "I got it- I was just playing around with her, 'sall!"

     The Punk Guy jumps off the truck and dashes off. Nanu sighs, irritated. "What a load of hassle..." 

     "What's this," He turns to you. "No smile for me? And here I am, coming out of my way to help you out with the town you're so intent on saving."

      _I'd smile more if you had come before I spent most of my money._

     You shake your head. "...I just thought that you weren't interested in helping."

     "I'm not, really. Don't take this the wrong way now." Nanu shoves his hands in his pockets. "You and that boy were just making a lot of commotion- and all that noise was getting annoying."

     What the? Wasn't he JUST asking you to smile and be grateful for him doing his job? And what kind of guy would swear so much in front of a person he called 'kid'? Weirdo.

     He turns to leave. Nanu then says to you, back turned, "Anyway, girl. Try not to destroy the whole place. See you around."

     A little miffed by his lack of faith in you, you mutter, "Okay, Officer, whatever you say. But..." you smile slightly and say more audibly, "Thanks for keeping the peace."

     Nanu stops walking and runs a hand through his slate-grey hair. "...That's funny. Haven't heard words like that in more than half a decade." His head turns from left to right, examining the work you had done for the town. "Though...looking around now, the place seems cleaner than usual."  
  
     Maybe it's your ears playing tricks on you, but you could swear you hear him mutter under his breath as he walks away, "Who're you that you're causing me this much trouble...?"

     Huh. Maybe he isn't so bad.

     Wait. What were you thinking? It wasn't like Nanu came to your aid because he cared- he was just upset that you were making too much noise. 

     Shaking your head, you pat the still Rotom-possessed pressure washer and decide to get back to work.  

     "I probably interrupted one of his cat naps," you joke to Rotom, as it removes one of the last remnants of the graffiti near the truck. "What do you think? There's a lot of Meowth in his house..."

     "It's not uncommon to hear of Pokémon picking up habits from their trainerzzz," your Pokémon concurs. "Why can't trainerzzz pick up habits from their Pokémon?"

     You laugh and nod your head in  agreement. 

     At the end of the day, Po Town wasn't looking a ton different, but the appearance of the place seemed a little better now that most of the graffiti on the streets was cleaned up. You wipe your face and runny nose with a cloth, and are surprised to see blood come from it. A nosebleed? You must have worked yourself hard today. 

     Just as you're feeling pretty pleased with your progress, a large patch of wooden boards falls from one of the houses' awnings, leaving a gaping hole in its roof. 

     You exhale in resignation and close your eyes. _Guess I'll be back tomorrow, too..._

     However, as you close the gate to Po Town behind you, you feel less defeated than you did the day before, and smile a little to yourself.

 

 


	3. Mother, May I Take One Step Forward?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you hear from old friends and some of your previous mistakes come to bite you in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? It's a wild (early) update! 
> 
> However, uni's just resumed for me again, so my schoolwork will take precedence over the story. I'll try to post a new chapter every Friday, so you guys can hopefully expect the next chapter, not this upcoming Friday, but next Friday.
> 
> Thanks as always for your comments and kudoses, I really appreciate them! If you have any feedback to give me on the story or the characters, I'd love to hear it in the comments below.

  
      The next afternoon you wake up with a fog in your brain, and it feels like much later than usual. As you try to untangle yourself from the sheets of your bed, you reach for the alarm clock near your dresser. Glancing at your clock, you squint. Does that say 7:77 or 1:11?

     The familiar greasy, sweet scent of freshly fried _malasada_ wafts through the air. Your mother had been experimenting with making the pastry for several days now, and usually made it around lunchtime....

    _Wait. Lunchtime...?_

     Grr. It's not 7:77. Minutes only go up to 59.

     You leap out of bed. "I'm so late!"

     Running down the stairs, you yell, "Mom, why didn't you wake me up?"

     "You said you wanted to sleep more," your mother protests, taking out a _malasada_ out of the frier with a slotted spoon. Meowth paws at her leg, trying to obtain one of the sugary confections. "Oh, stop it, you! Anyway, so that's why I didn't try hard to wake you up! This is your week off, right?"

     "Yeah, mom, but-" you argue, putting on your jacket, "I have a lot of work to do!"

     Your mother giggles. "You're starting to sound like Professor Kukui!"

     "Ugh," you mutter. You then search for your belt of Pokéballs, and find it on the kitchen counter. "That's not even the same thing!"

     "All work and no play are going to make you a dull girl," the older woman laughs, and hands you a sugar-coated _malasada_ from the rack which several of them were cooling on. "You're getting very thin- make sure you eat well! Don't work yourself too hard and have proper meals!"

    "Okay, mom," you laugh, and shove it in your mouth hurriedly. The _malasada_ has a pleasant warm, yeasty, sweet taste, and you smile, relishing it. "This is really good- did you use a new recipe?"

     She grins and dusts the sugar off her hands. "I did! You should stay at home and be my taste-tester: Meowth keeps trying to eat them, and you could give me ideas for new flavors-"

     If you agreed to that, then your mom would never let you leave until she stuffed you full of fried bread. "Sorry, mom! I really have to go," you say, checking to make sure you had all of your things. You then look through your Poké Ride application for Charizard Glide. "Hau and Kahuna Hala really like _malasada_ \- maybe get them to try some? I'll be available for taste-testing once I get home!"

     "Kahuna Hala told me that if I show up to his house with any more _malasada_ , he'd have to get me professional help! But all right: I guess I can't stop you from going. I'll save some for you, so hurry back!" your mother calls after you, and you take off on your Charizard.

     She puts her hands on her hips, and sighs. "Honestly, kids these days grow up so fast..."

 

* * *

     

     There's an unusually large commotion outside the gate to Po Town, and several people are chattering amongst themselves and adjusting their clothing. You try to get a better look, but the crowd won't move out of the way to let you through. 

     Still half-awake, you head to the outside of the Po Town Police Station and rub your eyes. Something seems a bit strange about this crowd, although in your dazed, sleepy state, you couldn't put your finger on what it was.

     Then, all of a sudden, a strong hand yanks you by the shoulder into the police station. You whip around to see Officer Nanu, police uniform wrinkled, and holding a half-full coffee mug in one hand. Judging by the deep wrinkles and the purplish-gray bags around his eyes, the older man looks MORE tired than normal, if that's even possible.

     "Those people have been here for at least three and a half hours, and won't go until they talk to the Champ," Nanu hisses. "Do I have _you_ to thank for this?"

     It's clear that he'd like to do _anything_ but thank you right now. 

     "Wait, what did _I_ do?" you ask, annoyed that he would just pull you in here to scold you. Nanu's eyes glance over to the window, and he frowns deeper. 

     "See for yourself."

     You blink. Looking more closely outside, you can see that the crowd of people in all shapes, colors and sizes waiting outside the gate to Po Town are all dressed in nurse outfits.

      _Agh. Acerola._

     "Sorry," you mumble. "I told Acerola to advertise for a nurse position in the Po Town Pokémon Center."

     Nanu scoffs and gestures to the crowd. "And here they are, girl."

     "I'll take care of it," you insist, and turn to head outside. You then turn around and ask him, "Do you have a megaphone or a whistle or something? There's a lot of people at the gate..."

     "Check the hall closet," Nanu mutters, and he walks zombie-like to the couch where he promptly faceplants into one of its cushions. You head to the closet and rummage through it, setting aside different kinds of Meowth toys, tarps, handcuffs, pepper spray, and other police equipment. Finally, after clearing away those objects you spot a off-white colored megaphone covered in dust. It has a bunch of unlabeled buttons on its handle.

     Heading outside, you make your way to the gate of Po Town, and you turn the megaphone on. A blaring siren instantly begins to go off, immediately alerting the crowd of people to your presence. Desperately fiddling around with the different buttons, you wince as the siren continues to wail and screech. 

     After pressing who knows how many different combinations of buttons, the siren ceases wailing. Making your way to the front of the gate, you say through the megaphone, "Hello! I'm the Champion. All of the people present who're here to apply for positions in the Po Town PMC, please raise your hands." 

     An entire sea of hands shoot up into the air.

_There's the answer to that question..._

     "Sorry, but the Pokémon Center isn't open for business right now!" you apologize, and are briefly taken aback by the volume of your voice.

 _This is police-grade, isn't it? No wonder it's so loud...!_  
  
     You continue, "Please leave your PokeFinder number for me, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible for an interview in a few days! Thanks."

 

* * *

 

     After getting nearly fifty-somewhat PokeFinder numbers, you head inside Po Town, and finish cleaning off the graffiti around town with Rotom. The temporary relief you felt at your achievement was diminished by the thought that the inside of the buildings was probably worse. 

     Venturing inside the Pokémon Center, you take a look at your surroundings. The inside of the building was a mess- various scrawls of graffiti peppered the ground, the lights looked like they hadn't been working in years, and to top it all off, the cafe and Poké Mart had been ransacked. 

    "I can't have anyone working at the Pokémon Center if it's like this-" you mutter, looking around. You try flicking on the lights, to no avail.

_Maybe I can try having Rotom power the Pokémon Center...?_

     Near the Poké Mart, you catch sight of a circuit breaker, and say, "Hey, Rotom-"

     "Way ahead of you, kiddo!" Rotom zips, who unpossesses the pressure washer and promptly vanishes into the circuit breaker. You wait with bated breath.

     Nothing happens after several minutes. Rotom reappears, and buzzes sadly. "Zzzorry, partner. Either I can't power the entire Pokémon Center by myself, or a fuzzze or two is blown..."

     "That's okay, Rotom. I don't expect you to do everything by yourself. You did a good job yesterday! We'll need to clean up the graffiti inside here, anyway. I think we can handle that."

     While cleaning up the graffiti inside the PMC, you spot a Punk Guy/Team Skull Grunt sleeping on the floor next to his Pokémon. You really, really, REALLY hope this guy doesn't ask you for money, too....

     You shake the young man's shoulder. "Hey, can you get up? I'm trying to clean this place."

       "Hunh? Wha?" he says groggily, running his eyes. 

     You say, voice firm, "I need you to get up." 

     "C'mon, man, I just wanna sleep," the Punk Guy moans. "Leave me alone." He rolls over onto his side and tries to go back to bed.

     Not to be discouraged, you turn on the police megaphone, and predictably, the siren goes off just as loudly as it had before. The young man covers his ears and whines, "Okay, I'm gettin' up, I'm gettin' up!"

     He stands up, stretches, and yawns. "What do you want from me, lady?"

     "I'm going to clean this place up. It's hard if you're in the way."

     "So you want me to get lost, is what you're sayin?"

     You nod. "Mm-hmm."

      His eyes squint, you aren't sure whether it's from exhaustion or annoyance. "You're lucky that I was just going to blow this popsicle stand anyway. Who'd wanna hear that siren noise anymore, anyway? What a pain." The Punk Guy calls his Pokémon and leaves. 

     After finishing your cleanup of the graffiti on the floor, you decide to take a trip to the Hokulani Observatory. Sophocles may not be the most athletic person in Ula'ula, but you were pretty sure if anyone could help you out with powering Po Town, the Electric-type Captain would be the one to ask.

     "We've almost got it-" you hear a voice say from inside the observatory, and a sudden BOOM! resounds from a room just down the hall from where you were walking. You run into the room to see Molayne and Sophocles standing around a peculiar device. Soot is caked on Sophocles's face, and Molayne's hair sticks up in several wacky directions like he had just stuck his finger an an electric socket.

     "We'll have to do more testing, huh..." Sophocles sighs, and puts down his wrench.

    "Don't you worry, Soffy- I think we can do it." Molayne says to his cousin, and catches sight of you. "Hey, it's the Champion! Sorry about the mess- what brings you here?"

     "That's okay," you say. "I'm trying to fix up Po Town. But the electricity doesn't work, and I'm running into a lot of problems.... Is there any way you guys could help me outfit the town with a working power source in a couple of days?"

     "....Well, it's definitely possible, and we'd try our best," Molayne says, but then pauses.

     Sophocles points out, "...But it'd probably take the better part of a month to get Po Town supplied with electricity."

     A month? You'd be lucky if you could take off a couple of weeks!

     With a downcast gaze, you say softly, "Sorry: I shouldn't ask for so much from you guys. I just need the Pokémon Center to work for right now."

     Sophocles and Molayne look at each other, and Molayne says, "We could definitely help you out with hooking up electricity to the Pokémon Center in Po Town."

     Sophocles nods. "We were just figuring out the schematic for a new generator- if you helped us out with setting it up and stuff, I'm sure we could supply the PMC with electricity in a few days. I need a test subject for the generator, anyways!"

     "Powering an entire town- we'd need to have a couple more days to plan that for sure-" Molayne says, and smiles. "-but hooking up electricity for a Pokémon Center should be a cinch."

 

* * *

 

     Sophocles asks, "So, why'd you decide to do this in the first place?"

     "Huh?" You're perched precariously high up on a ladder, and leaning over to connect one of the Pokémon Center sign lights to a wire. "Do what?" Molayne and Sophocles are on the ground below you, Sophocles fiddling with one of the generator parts, Molayne soldering a wife to a circuit board. 

     "Fixing up Po Town, he means," Molayne clarifies, and wipes the sweat from his brow. "This place hasn't seen better days in at least half a decade."

      "Well..." you begin to say, and stop to think. "I first heard about this place from Professor Kukui. He told me that this place used to be a getaway for the locals away from the tourists and the city..."

     Molayne nods. "That's right. Me and him used to come here to relax all the time- the big house north of town used to be an inn! Po Town was a popular local vacation spot."

     You continue, bending a wire into place, "...I'd like to believe that the Champion of any region has a responsibility to make the people who live here happy."

     "And if rebuilding this town is the way to do that, then I have to try my best." you finish. "The wires are all connected to the sign, by the way."

     "That Kukui..." Molayne murmurs. "He's lucky to have discovered a great trainer. But that should do it- nice work! Soffy! Can you try turning on the generator?"

     From your lofty position up high on the ladder, you catch sight of Nanu at the entrance of the PMC gazing up at you. How long had he been standing there? You smile and wave at him.

     ...He just raises an eyebrow and stares back.

     "I got it!" Sophocles exclaims. He then yells to you, "I knew you could do it! OK, try turning on that light!"

     Getting up on your tiptoes, you turn a small switch near the aforementioned wire and the lights to the Pokémon Center sign turn on.

     "Yes!"

     "Yeaaargh! I knew we could do it!"

     "Yeah!" you cheer, but then sparks emerge from the sign, and-

     With a bang, all the lights go out. You look around wildly, but can hardly see much in your dim surroundings.

      _Ohhhhh nooooo._

     Sophocles sputters from somewhere in the room, "No way! Did I blow a fuse? I-It's fine-"

     Suddenly, a creaking noise resounds in the dimly lit Pokémon Center. The ladder, made unstable by the abrupt and violent movement in the room, falls from its precarious position. You jump from it and cling on to a nearby ledge for dear life.

     "W-what just happened?" Sophocles asks. "Are you all right?!"

     "The ladder fell," you say, struggling to hang on to the ledge with your sweaty hands. "Please help!"

     "OK, hang on!"

     Molayne and Sophocles both run to you- but your grip is slipping, and you fall from the ledge.

     Before you have the time to contemplate death, you're caught by a pair of strong arms and land safely.

     "Thank you," you breathe gratefully, and look up to meet Sophocles/Molayne's face. "I don't know what would've happened if you weren't here."

     Nanu's face gazes down at you, and he smirks. "Heh. Then you need to be more careful, girl. I'm not exactly reliable."

      _WHAT THE-_

     As you realize exactly _whose_ arms you're in, your face turns beet red and goosebumps prick your limbs. Nanu continues, "You can come down now, kid."

     "I-I was just going to," you snap, and let yourself down.  

     Molayne and Sophocles run to the two of you. "Whew, that was a close one..." Sophocles sighs. "Thanks, Kahuna!"

     "Good thing Officer Nanu was there, huh?" Molayne says, and turns to you.

     You look at Nanu, who shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. "If it wasn't me, one of you would've gotten her. It's not like it was anything too serious."

     And you were just about to thank him, too- why'd he have to act like saving you was such an inconvenience? 

     Frowning, you dust yourself off and tell Molayne and Sophocles that you all should probably get back to work before the sky became dark outside. 

      

* * *

 

     Late at night, after Molayne and Sophocles had traveled back to the Hokulani Observatory to sleep, you sit by yourself in the unlit Po Town Pokémon Center. The only thing that illuminates your pitch-black surroundings is the light from your RotomDex. As you mull over different possibilities and solutions for powering the Center, you receive a message from a familiar PokéFinder number.

     You pick up, and a fair, blonde-haired girl waves anxiously at the camera. "H-hello!"

     "Lillie! I haven't heard from you in a while. How's your journey in Kanto going?"

     "All right," she smiles. "I'm doing research for Professor Oak. I finally have my own Pokedex, and I caught some new Pokémon! I'll be visiting Alola in a few days- I'm so excited to see all of you again!"

     You joke, "I'm sure Hau'll be pretty happy to see you!"

     The tips of her ears turn pink, and Lillie stutters, "O-oh, is that so?" She then sneezes and wipes her nose. "How are you doing?"

     Finished teasing her for now, you say, "I'm okay- I'm doing some work in Po Town. I want you and the others to see it when I'm done. But that's great! Are you okay, though? Did you get sick?"

     She nods and sniffs. "I'm all right, don't worry. I'm working hard to become strong, like you! Po Town sounds like quite the amount of work...but I don't doubt you can do it!"

     "Thanks! So I'll see the reveal of Lillie's MEGA Evolved form when you get back?"

     "Mega-evolved?!" Lillie exclaims. "I'm not so sure about that... I haven't  challenged a gym leader in Kanto yet."

     "I thought you wanted to become a great Pokémon trainer!" you ask. You then declare, "You need to have more confidence in yourself- I bet you could defeat Brock or Misty without a problem."

     "T-that's so easy for you to say! You're so strong and talented as a Pokémon Trainer!"

     "Just because I'm the Champion doesn't mean I can do everything! Want to know something?" you point out. You then look around, and whisper, "I can't do all the Z-moves."

     Lillie gasps. "You can't be serious! Which one can't you do?"

     "It's, uh...the Dark-type Z-move. I still haven't gotten the hang of it yet," you admit. You make your best menacing face at the camera, and hold your hands out like claws.  
  
     Lillie covers her mouth, and her eyes widen in surprise. "Wow, so scary!"

     "You're lying." you state flatly.

     Immediately apologetic, she frowns and says, "Sorry...! Did Professor Kukui tell you anything?"

     "He couldn't get a word in edgewise because him and Hau were laughing too hard."

     Lillie thinks, and then offers, "Did you perhaps ask Kahuna Nanu to help you?"

     Uh, right. "He looked bored enough doing the Z-move the first time..." you shake your head.

     "Oh, don't say that! I'm sure he..." Lillie begins to say, then hastily changes her sentence. "U-um, but there's no harm in asking!"

     "You don't think he'll agree either do you."

     "It's not that, not at all! To tell you the truth, Officer Nanu frightens me a little..." Lillie says hesitantly. "I also don't know him very well, so I'm unsure of what he might say... But there's no harm in trying!" she quickly stammers. "You taught me that you have to try hard, even if you don't know if it'll turn out well..."

     You agree with her, and say, "Before we meet up, we should both do things outside of our comfort zone."

     Lillie nods assertively, and says, "I'll challenge my first gym and you can ask Kahuna Nanu about how to perform the Dark-type Z-move!"

     You and your big mouth- that wasn't exactly what you meant. "I'll try to learn the Dark-type Z-move, but I'm up to my knees in work!"

     She smirks, a very un-Lillie expression. "I don't know how people would feel about the Alolan Champion not knowing how to perform a Z-move. They might be a little upset..."

     "Okay, I'll try to learn it by the time you get here- but you have to challenge the Pewter City gym. Got it?"

     "I understand!" She nods up and down happily. "Oh, that's Nurse Joy, I have to go- goodbye!"

     After saying goodbye to her and hanging up, you sigh. Great. Asking Nanu for help with anything substantial was so far out of your comfort zone it may as well have been in Ultra Space. And how were you supposed to juggle fixing the PMC and Z-Power training?

     Frustrated, you stand up. You then shout in the dark, empty room,

     "You could've just let me fall too, you know!"

 


	4. Like Cats and Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you let go of your pride and ask a certain someone for help, and try to assist the people around you as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, guys. After this chapter is where the story really starts to pick up, so please stick with me!
> 
> As always, comments and feedback are always appreciated!

     "Okay, Meowth, use Black Hole Eclipse."

     This was your 26th attempt to activate the Dark-type Z-Power today. Fingers crossed it works this time.

     Meowth lunges forward, and...

     ...bites the Ariados, it then faints. You close your eyes and wince. Better make that 27.

     Last night, you had fallen asleep in the Po Town PMC, and only had awoken after a chilly, damp breeze had brushed past your body. Unable to sleep after that, you picked up your pet Meowth from your house on Route 1, being careful not to stir your mother from her slumber.

     Before leaving the house, you left a sticky note on the fridge informing her that you were safe and not to expect you until the next day. Heading to Route 17, you thought to try and figure out how to perform the Dark-type Z-move by yourself.

     Your Meowth trots back to you and paws at your leg affectionately. You look down and smile apologetically. "Oh, you're just a house Meowth, I shouldn't be so hard on you... Sorry," you say while lifting up the tomcat and smoothing its creamy beige-white fur. "But the Professor said before that I needed to have a strong bond with my Pokémon for the Z-move to work, and I tried all of my other Pokémon already..."

     After several failed attempts to activate the Dark-type Z-power with your pet Meowth, you huff and sigh. Contorting your face into so many different expressions and straining every part of your body had taken a lot out of you. As you glance into your RotomDex, you briefly glimpse your reflection- your mouth was screwed up in a tight frown, and several stress lines had made a home on your face.

     Rotom, unlike you, had gotten a decent amount of sleep. It chirps (unhelpfully), "You look kinda like the Kahuna, partner!"

     You take another quick look at your reflection, and loathe as you are to admit it, there was a pretty strong resemblance to the older police officer. Shivering, you smile as wide as you can- if you went around with that expression all day, you're pretty sure your resting face would be stuck that way _forever._

     You snicker a little. _Huh. They should call it Resting Nanu Face._

     Annoyance with yourself fading a tiny bit with your joke, you then fold your legs down on the soft, damp grass. You then sit and reason with yourself. "But...17 types out of 18 isn't bad, right?" Irritated, you then close your eyes and exhale. "Why did I say anything to Lillie...."

    "Because you wanted to make her feel better?" the Ghost Pokémon offers, and perches on your shoulder. "You're a good person that way, zz-zzt!"

     "Thanks, Rotom," you say, although you wish you had been a tiny bit less of a good person yesterday night.

     After working Meowth (and yourself) to the point of exhaustion, you decide to walk to the Po Town PMC- you aren't in the mood to go flying anywhere. Strangely enough, the gate to the town's locked, so you have to go through a hole in the ground to get in.

     You turn several different switches and fiddle around with the dials on the Pokémon healing station, but the machine is inoperable, probably due to the lack of electricity. How did those Team Skull Grunts heal your Pokémon to begin with before, anyway?

     "The healing station machine doesn't work..." You blow up a tuft of hair. _Just like everything else in this place._

     You spy a nearly worn away sticker on the side of the machine. Upon closer examination, the label reads: "IF DAMAGED OR NON-FUNCTIONAL, PLEASE CONTACT THIS NUMBER: 1 (808)* 876-8956."

_I'll need to place an order for a new healing station anyway._

     You call the number and charge the cost of the machine to your League account. After hanging up, as you look around the Pokémon Center, it seems even lonelier without the normal chatter of people inside either shopping or buying drinks. 

      _Once I fix the place up, then I can worry about asking people to work at the Poké Mart or setting up the cafe inside the PMC..._

     "I'd like to have a Komala Coffee right now, though." you sigh, and squish your cheeks in your hands. Walking over to the cafe area, you say to the imaginary cafe barista, "One Komala Coffee, please..." Your shoulders then drop in exhaustion.

     Too bad you can't just make the coffee appear by willing it into existence.

     The quick and light footsteps of Molayne alert you to his presence. He enters the Pokémon Center, stretching his back.

     "Just as I'd expect from the Champion- got here bright and early, huh?" he yawns and covers his mouth. "What are you doing?"

     "Good morning... I was just training. Your cousin didn't come with you?"

     "Soffy is going to be arriving a bit later- my cousin was out like a light! He was up all night trying to figure our little dilemma with the PMC out," Molayne says. He then scratches his head and looks around. "How did you get in here, though? I had to have the Kahuna open the gate for me- apparently people sneak in here at night."

     To your embarrassment, you admit you had fallen asleep in the Po Town PMC last night, not wanting to say that you had snuck in afterwards through a hole in the ground. Molayne laughs and turns to the person who walked into the Pokémon Center behind him. "Officer, the Champion was here all night, can you believe it?"

     "Seems like she's the only one who would be foolish enough to do so," Nanu says sharply.

     "Good morning to you too," you mutter, not sure whether you were more exasperated by your lack of sleep or by the Kahuna's bluntness.

     He continues, "Would've been safer to sleep in the police station, kid. Or stay in a hotel nearby."

     The Po Town Police Station looks like a snug fit for one, but you confess that you were flat broke. Additionally, you say that you only got a few hours of sleep, so you were safe. Your eyelids feel like heavy plates weighing your eyes down, and you let out a loud yawn.

     The two men are surprised by the abrupt, loud noise, and chuckle slightly. 

     Molayne says, "Now that the sun has risen, I'm pretty sure it's safe for you to sleep! Don't worry, me and Soffy'll get the equipment set up by the time you wake up."

     

* * *

 

     More than a few hours later, you awaken in a chair in the Po Town PMC. A thin, scratchy cotton blanket covers your body, it smells faintly of Meowth hair, coffee, and catnip. Untangling yourself from the sheet of fabric, you go over to where Sophocles and Molayne are working. Miscellaneous electrical parts and wires are scattered all over the floor.

     "Finally awake, huh?" Sophocles asks. 

     Molayne clears his throat. He clarifies, "You were asleep for quite a while, there. We were worried about you!"

     "I may have overdone it..." you say, and sit cross-legged on the ground near the two men. "How are the both of you doing?"

     "We're on the edge of a breakthrough!" Sophocles says, uncharacteristically upbeat. Guess sleep _did_  do a lot for a person. "Big Mo figured out what was acting up with the Pokémon Center sign, and we're working on a couple of solutions."

     Concerned, Molayne turns to you. "You must've been tired to have been asleep for so long- what were you up to earlier today?"

     "I was...trying to learn how to do the Dark-type Z-Power. I told my friend that I would finally learn how to do it properly."

     "Did you try getting yourself pumped up?" Sophocles asks you. "When I'm thinking about doing the Electric-type Z-Move, there's like this energy that SURGES through me, and I feel a huge jolt!"

     "Thanks for the advice, but I've tried every way I know how..."

     "Sorry, I don't know how helpful we'll be with that..." Molayne admits. "Even though we were both Captains at one time, the feeling of performing the Electric-type or the Steel-type Z-Power is probably pretty different from the Dark-type one."

     Molayne continues, "Did you ask Officer Nanu for help? That's his Z-Power type, right?"

      _Unfortunately._

     You admit you hadn't, and Molayne cups his chin thoughtfully. "You know, Nanu's a moody guy, but he's the best guy to ask about the Z-power," Molayne says. "I don't think he'd turn you down." 

     "Maybe now's your chance to ask him while we sort this out," Sophocles adds. "Me and Big Mo are working on this anyways, and it's easier to concentrate when there's no distractions around."

After being unceremoniously booted out of the Pokémon Center, and pacing around it for a couple of minutes, you decide there was no way getting around it. You'd have to swallow your pride and ask him for help.

     You find the Kahuna outside the police station, collecting rainwater outside of an drainage ditch. You follow him inside the police station, and get his attention. 

     "Oh, it's you, girl." Nanu shakes droplets of water off of his police jacket and leans back against a chair. "What's up."

     "I, uh..." you say, and pause in your tracks.

      Was this really worth it?

     "Well?" He raises an eyebrow.

      _You can't lose your nerve now, come on! Think of Lillie, think of Lillie..._

     You blurt out, "I was wondering if you could help me with the Dark-type Z-Power."

     "Didn't I show you that a while back?"

     "You did."

     "And?"

     "I..." you begin to make an excuse, but decide it'd be no use. "...I can't get it." 

     For a moment, you think he's going to refuse to help you, but Nanu's brows furrow and he gets up off his chair. He then motions for you to follow him outside the police station.

      "If you want to use the Dark-type Z-move, you've gotta do it like this." He goes through the motions of the Z-Move. However, watching him now, you can't really tell what the difference was between what you had been doing and what he was now doing currently.

     You try to follow his movements as best as you can and imitate his intimidating scowl with a grimace. "Like this?"

     He shakes his head. "No. When you're trying to use Z-Powers, you communicate the feelings you and your Pokémon have toward your opponent." Nanu bares his teeth. Now, _that's_ frightening. "Try again, now. Give me your best shot, and don't hold back."

 

* * *

 

     If the way to perform the Dark-type Z-Power was to feel so aggravated that you ended up tearing your hair out, then by the end of these few hours you'd be a straight master of it. Just how many ways could someone say _no, wrong, that's not it,_ anyway? 

     You're feeling more and more stupid by the millisecond. Apparently the Kahuna had found all of them.

     Nanu sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, just stop. Clear your head."

     "Okay."

     "Now, follow me." The older man goes through the motions of the Z-Power for what could possibly be the 40th time today. You attempt to follow his movements, but end up screwing up the whole thing when you notice how closely he's scrutinizing you.

     Nanu says sharply, "You can't half-ass it."

_When you're looking at me like that, it's hard not to get nervous!_

     You narrow your eyes. "You aren't?"

     "Heh, I am. But lucky for me, this-" Nanu smirks and motions to his face. "-is my default factory setting. I _look_ intimidating, kid."

     With absolutely no intonation whatsoever, you say, "But I don't."

    He puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall, bored. "No, you don't. You have to make yourself feel that way. And if you can't, well..."

    Cutting his implication off in its tracks, you stubbornly assert, "I won't give up."

  About an hour later, you were at your wits end with learning this stupid move. You can't bring yourself to be terrifying- why would you want to scare your Pokémon, anyway? Furthermore, your arms and legs ache from the constant movement, and you'd like nothing more than to sit down and rest. 

     Exhaling irritatedly, Nanu says, "Girl, if you're not going to listen to me, there's really no point in me being here. I'm going home."

    _I'm trying as best as I can! At least YOU can sit down in a chair or lean against the wall._

    Frustrated, you glare at him and clench your jaw. You snap, "No! We're not leaving until I can do it. Stay. Right. There!"

     "..."

     Nanu blinks, taken aback by your sudden flare of anger. He then throws his head back and laughs. "Heh! That'll do it." A wolfish grin emerges on Nanu's face. "Give your Pokémon the look you just gave me."

     "What?"

     "The look you gave me was pretty scary, kid. Just...humor me and try it."

     Not expecting much, you go through the motions of doing the Z-Move again, this time initiating a battle against a female Yungoos. Suddenly, energy emanates from your Z-Ring, and a dark, oppressive atmosphere fills the air. Your Pokémon submits the wild Yungoos, and it faints after being pulled into a dark abyss. 

     "Yes! I can't believe it, it finally worked!" You whoop, then turn to the older man and take his hands. "Thank you so, so much!"

    Nanu grins uneasily, and shakes his head. "Cripes, girl, if I had known you would thank me so much, I would've reconsidered teaching you this in the first place."

     "I really mean it! Thank you." You say, and let go of his hands when you realize that your fingers are still interlaced with his. 

     "You... What're you still thanking me for? You did that all by yourself. I only gave you the motivation." Nanu pats you on the head. "You did good." He then says your name.

     You blink. _Did he just...?_

     "You...called me by my name," you say.

     "What of it?"

      _You usually call me 'kid' or 'girl', so it's pretty weird._

     "Nothing," you shake your head and smile. "Thanks again. Thank you so much!"

     "Kid, I-" Nanu begins to say, then stops. "Quit thanking me, okay? I just used your name cause I didn't know how to get you to stop with all that noise."

     "Okay," you say, and begin to think the older man's just saying that now because he doesn't like to receive compliments. You then confess, "But it means a lot to me."  
 

* * *

     

     You head back to the Po Town PMC to assist with repairs, upbeat from your success with finally learning the Z-Move.

     "How'd it go?" Molayne asks you.

      You smile and make a similar threatening face at the two of them, and hold out your hands like claws. The two men jump a little, taken aback.

      "T-that's terrifying," Sophocles gulps. "Was t-this a good idea?" 

      Molayne laughs nervously, "Well, she definitely knows how to use the Dark-type Z move now! Maybe it worked a little too well, though..."

     Glaring at the two of them, you say that unless they wanted you to test out your new-found powers on them, the three of you should finish your work on the Pokémon Center as quickly as possible. They nod nervously.

     A few hours into your work, Molayne heads over to you. He asks, "Hey, a certain Masked Royal's on the other line! Do you want to talk to him?" You laugh and nod, and Molayne hands you his Pokedex. "Try not to scare him too much though. I think he's got one foot in the grave already!"

     "Hey, cousin. Heard from Molayne you were fixing up the Pokémon Center..." Professor Kukui lets out a yawn.

     Even though you were working non-stop, it seemed as if the Professor apparently didn't get much sleep either. Every couple of words, his head would nod off, and his eyelids would close for a few seconds.

     "...How're repairs going?" He finally asks you.     

     "Better than you, I think! You have RNF."

     Professor Kukui blinks. "What's that now, cousin?"

     "Oh, sorry!" you laugh a little, embarrassed. "Just a joke."

     "Huh?"

     "It's an inside joke me and Rotom came up with," you continue, a little hesitantly now. "Don't worry about it!"

     Now THAT got his attention. "What? An inside joke that I'M not in on?" Kukui yells in mock outrage. "C'mon, now you gotta tell me!" 

     You shake your head and laugh. "Nope." 

     "Please?" It's almost cute, his pout looks just like his Rockruff.

     Molayne chuckles from over your shoulder, while he rewires the lights. "You know, he's going to keep asking you until you tell him. My friend can be very persistent."

     "He's right," Kukui laughs. "Now spill, cuz!"      

     "Hmm," you put your finger on your chin. "I don't know how good you are at keeping secrets...." 

     "Agh, you're hurting my feelings! How do you think I kept my plans for the Pokémon League under wraps for so long?" He says in faux anguish, feigning hurt. Kukui then mimes zipping up his mouth and throwing away the key. "I won't say anything to anyone."    

     "You swear you won't tell anyone else?"      

     "It'll be just the two of us." He smiles, his eyes crinkle up at the sides, and he holds up his left hand in a pinky-swear sign. "I promise."      

     You think on it.      

_Just the two of us._

     His silver ring glints off the fluorescent lights of his laboratory. 

      _What are you doing?_

     "Sorry, Professor! My lips are sealed," you say. Mischievously, you then add, "But... if you call me back after you've gotten a decent amount of sleep, I might tell you."

      "Okay," He smiles. "I'm holding you up to that promise, cousin! Don't leave me hanging."

      After hanging up, Molayne stands up and asks you, "So, what is RNF?" 

     "Oh, that's easy, it's....wait." You pause. Then you jab a finger into Molayne's chest. "I'm not telling you anything- you're going to tell Professor Kukui! He's one of your _best_ friends!"

     Molayne scratches the back of his head and laughs. "Guilty as charged! I had to at least try to help my old buddy out."

      "Well, you and him are going to have to figure it out without my help." you huff, and return back to work.

     A few hours later, you realize that you haven't said anything else to anyone since the call. You then tiptoe over to Sophocles, and ask: 

     "Do you need anything, Sophocles?"

      The younger boy is silent as he solders a piece of copper to a bolt. Sophocles then looks as if he's heard a terrible joke and rolls his eyes. Sophocles mutters, "It's Resting Nanu Face. The acronym."

     You exclaim, "You figured it out!"    

     He says, screwing a bolt into place, "It wasn't hard. But I guess I've had more experience dealing with the Kahuna than most." The younger boy then tells you he won't tell his cousin, and you sigh in relief. 

     "But... now that you ask- could you run an errand for me?" Sophocles asks. "I need some circuit boards and resistors for the lights. Here's a list I wrote up... You can buy these in Malie City."

     You take the piece of paper from him, and agree to run the errand, eager for the fresh air. But before leaving, you turn back to the younger boy, and punch him lightly in the shoulder playfully. You then say in a hushed tone, "Oh, by the way- thanks for keeping that secret for me! I really owe you one."

 

* * *

  
     While walking the long cobbled streets in Malie City on the way back to Po Town, your stomach growls. You realize you haven't eaten the entire day, and search for some place to grab a quick bite to fill your stomach.

    In your search to find something affordable to eat, you pass by the well-manicured entrance of Sushi High Roller and close your eyes. 

_That's definitely out of my price range..._

     After buying a cheap RageCandyBar to quell your hunger, you come across another stall selling sushi for ¥500. Now that you think about it, hadn't you seen Nanu walk into Sushi High Roller a couple of times?

     You purchase a bento box, figuring that anything was better than those readymade meals the Kahuna probably purchased from the Thrifty Megamart. 

     After giving Sophocles the parts he had asked for, you head to the Po Town Police Station.

     "Here," you say, and hand Nanu a crinkled brown paper bag. Disinterested maroon-red eyes glance up at you from a copy of the _Malie Times_. A deep-blue Alolan Meowth is curled up on the older man's lap. "This is for you."

     "What's this nonsense?"

     "It's a thank you. And an apology." 

     "For what?"

     "An apology for yesterday, and a thank you for helping me out today. It's food," you say, and Nanu frowns. "What, you don't want it?"

     "No one asked you to."

     "Do people need a reason to do nice things for others? It's sushi." He raises his eyebrows. You stammer, "I just saw you come out of Sushi High Roller in Malie City once and I thought that you'd like that."

     "Thought you said you were broke," Nanu points out, and takes a long, drawn-out sip from his cup of coffee. " _This_ is from Sushi High Roller?"

     "Not exactly... But I asked the League for an advance on my salary, so I'm not broke," you lie, and shove it into his chest. "Do you want it or not? If you don't want it, I-I'll eat it."

     Nanu snorts and returns to reading his newspaper. "Eat it if you're hungry, girl."       

     You scowl- he was really determined to be difficult, wasn't he? Well, _two_ could play at that game. Taking a seat across from him at the coffee-stained table, you take the lacquered black plastic bento out of its humble packaging. Your face falls as you catch sight of two nearly-smashed sushi rolls, but you quickly plaster a smile on your face. 

     "Mmm, it's delicious!" you say, stuffing a piece of a almost-flattened sushi roll into your mouth. "I can taste how much effort the chef put into making each piece!"

     Nanu takes one look at you, and his mouth twitches, with hunger or amusement, you aren't sure which.

     You continue eating, this time trying a piece of spam musubi, "Mm-mmm!"

     He smirks. "Good, right?"

     You nod. "Yeah." You then mutter, "It's so good that I-I can also taste how much money it cost-"

     Nanu chokes on his coffee, tears start to form in his eyes. "Girl, you....you're just too much, you know that?"

     Now, was that a compliment or was he insulting you? A complinsult? Eh, you'll take what you can get.

     "I suppose I could take this." He reaches over the table, picks up a piece of musubi, and...

     ...feeds it to the Meowth curled up on his lap.

      _Wha-SERIOUSLY?_

     "It was supposed to be for you," you stammer. All that goodwill that had built up steadily in your mind toward his previous kind deeds vanishes in a puff of smoke.

     "Ate already." He shrugs, and gently runs his hand through the content Meowth's pretty fur. "Thanks for the food, though."

      _The NERVE of this guy....!_

     Figuring that you can't really tell a man who's at least a decade your senior how to appreciate food properly, you exhale and try to let it go. You're still upset, though.

     The peculiarly-colored Meowth that Nanu had been petting leaps off the older man's lap, mews at you, and rubs against your leg affectionately. You smile. "Well, I'm glad _he_ likes it." 

     "Hmm," Nanu turns to look at you. "What makes you think that Meowth's a male?"

     "Oh," you say. "My mom and I own a Kantonian Meowth as a pet. This guy acts just like him. Your Meowth wanders around a lot, and he also acts pretty aggressive toward other Meowth. I bet he keeps scratching the table post, too." you smile and admit, "My Meowth does the same thing!"

     "Good eye," he says, and leans back in his chair. "Rockruff and Growlithe people are strange. Meowth are all right, though. They don't judge you or anything." 

     "I like Meowths better, too," you admit. You couldn't bring yourself to hate on Rockruffs, considering how adorable Professor Kukui's Rockruff had been when you had first met it. "But... don't police officers usually train Growlithes?"

     "Yeah. Not my thing. Even when..." The older man begins to say, then sighs. "....well, no one wants to hear about that."

     Inside your back pocket, you then feel a vibration. The PokéFinder's Caller ID displays Professor Kukui's name.

     "Sorry, I have to take this," you say to Nanu, and he shrugs. Picking up the PokéFinder, you smile as Kukui's face appears on the display. "Calling me to ask what that acronym stands for?" you ask.

     He laughs. "You know it! If you wanna tell me now, I'm all ears!" The raspy quality of his voice betrays his lack of sleep.

     You narrow your eyes at him and frown. "Did you sleep at all?" you ask him.

     Kukui scratches the side of his cheek in that familiar way he does before he's about to lie. "Yeah, um... aw, come on, cousin. Can't you just tell me?"

     "Nope."

     "What?! I called for nothing?"

     "I asked you to call because I'm worried about you," you say. "You look like you haven't slept in YEARS. Are you okay? If you ever need someone to talk to, or... You know I'm always here for you."

     He laughs off your concern. "I'm a lucky guy to have so many people caring about me, ha-ha. Don't worry about me."

     You can't stand that sight of him, overworked and haggard, red rimming his eyes. 

     "You know, you can't do anything if you're sick-" you say, a lump caught in your throat. "If something bad happens to you, I-"

  _I don't know what I'd do._

"I-I'd get really mad! You promised you'd visit Po Town when I finished fixing up the city," you laugh weakly while wiping your eyes, doing your best to shake off your inconvenient thoughts. . "If you get sick, you can't visit, and I'd look really silly."

     "Right, I promised you that I'd come and visit, didn't I?" He clears his throat. "Okay, I'll do my best to get some sleep! Take it easy, cousin."

     "Talk to you soon," you say quietly, and hang up. Sitting by yourself in the room, your fretting thoughts spin around in circles, and you bunch up the folds of your clothes between your fingers.

     Nanu's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Girl, don't you have somewhere to be?"

     Startled, you look up from the RotomDex- you had forgotten about the older man's presence in the room. You then look at a clock on the wall: it's a quarter past 11. 

     "Oh, it's getting late." You gather your things and prepare to leave. As you head for the door, you hear the older man's voice again from behind you.

     "Hey, girl. Before you go, let me ask you something..." You stop walking, your back faces the older man.

     "...If you're really fixing up this place for everyone's sake like you say, then what're you doing chasing that guy around?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *FUN FACT: The (808) area code is Hawaii's state wide telephone area code! 
> 
> (Please don't call this number, I'm like 80% certain it belongs to someone, ha.)


	5. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which being the burdens of being Champion both help and hinder you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, guys! University's really kicking my ass at the moment, so updates might take a little longer than I planned. I'll try to get a chapter up every other weekend, so you can hopefully keep your eyes peeled for that.
> 
> As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated!

     "...What're you doing chasing after that guy?"

     You blink once and turn around, not sure if you had misheard him. "What...?"

     What's he getting at, anyway? Nanu couldn't mean...

     "You heard me," Nanu reiterates, stirring the coffee in his cup with a long spoon. "Shouldn't you be focusing on what you have to do?"

     Whew. Of course. This was probably just his way of telling you to leave. It was pretty late, after all.

     "I..." you feel tempted to answer, but feel your PokeFinder buzzing in your back pocket: undoubtedly a message from your mother, probably asking if you would be coming home tonight. "I-I have to go. Enjoy the sushi."

     However, you leave the police station that night with a sense of unease and a feeling of apprehension in the pit of your stomach. 

 

* * *

   

     That same night, lost in sleep, you recall memories of your journey in Alola.

     On the airplane ride over to Melemele Island, you and your mother had sat side by side in the economy-class section of the aircraft. As you flipped through a book on Alolan customs and culture, the flight attendant had brought the two of you your complimentary meal. You thanked her, and continued to flip through the handbook.

     "Mom, it's weird..." you had said, now pushing around a strange purple goop around the plate the flight attendant had given you absentmindedly. Your mother told you it's called _poi,_ and often scolded you for not enjoying it more. 

 _'Everyone in Alola likes it, why can't you?_ ' she all too often had said to you, but you still weren't sure that the foodstuff was edible.

     You continued, eying the unnaturally colored plasma-like substance on your styrofoam plate suspiciously, "Why would anyone here call me cousin, or sister, or auntie? I'm not related to them..."

     Your mother, making her best effort to enjoy the unfamiliar foodstuff, spooned some poi into her mouth and smiled. She then said, "That's easy, honey. The people on the island have a strong sense of community! Everybody knows everybody, so they all treat each other as family."

      "But you and Dad are my family. I can't imagine being that close to anyone else."

      "Oh, don't be like that, sweetie. The Alolan people are so serious about the idea of  family that they even have _a special word_ for it...oh, shoot, I can't remember it. What's it called, again?"

      The conversation you had been holding with your mother is cut short by a sudden announcement over the airplane's PA system. 

     "Attention, passengers. The time is now 12:30: we will be landing in Melemele Island, Alola shortly. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts."

     "Ah, I'll remember later," she sighs, and reclines back in the airplane seat. The older woman then turns her torso to face you. "That reminds me. You're going to be a little older than the people who usually go on the Island Challenge, but don't worry about it, okay, honey?"

     Your mother smiles, and brushes a fold out of the fabric of your shirt. "Try to make some friends! We'll be able to have a new family, and you'll make new experiences there in Alola. I'm sure people will like you if you open up to them!"

     You told her you'll try your best. Leaning back in your cramped and narrow seat, you tried to remember the word your mother had forgotten.

      _You_   _mean ohana, right, cousin?_

     In an instant you are back in your house on Melemele Island, right before you were going to leave to challenge the Pokémon League. Your mother smiles back at you from the kitchen, and says again: "I have faith in you! Knock 'em dead, sweetheart!"

     As you head out outside in preparation to scale Mount Lanakila, a familiar man's voice echoes along with your mother's. "I have faith in you." 

     A brief flash of your friends' faraway, smiling faces- Hau, Gladion, Lillie, and Professor Kukui appear in your head, and then everything fades to white.      

 

* * *

 

     After the dream, you toss and turn in your bed, unable to get a decent good night's sleep. You decide to leave your home when crimson and purple-orange streaks paint the sky. You then wander around on Route 1 for a few hours, reminiscing about the experiences that had made you Alola's first champion. When the sun rises, you make your way to Po Town. 

     As you attempt to enter the Po Town Pokémon Center, you find that a gigantic box partially blocks your way inside. Worming your way around the large obstruction, you arrive inside the building to see Molayne and Sophocles already inside.

     "Good morning, Champ!" Molayne greets you, and Sophocles lifts up his chin to acknowledge your presence. "Soffy and I have some good news for you!"

     Sophocles grins. "We figured out what was going on with the lights, and the electricity in the PMC's fully functional!" He then motions to the giant box. "Did you order something? This box came in a few hours ago, but we figured we shouldn't touch it 'til you came."

     You examine the cardboard box, and peer closely at the writing on the side of one of its faces. Realizing that this box must be the healing station you ordered yesterday, you tell the two of them about the machine.

    The three of you get to work replacing the old healing station with the new one, heaving and lugging the heavy machinery to its place behind the front desk of the Pokémon Center. After hooking up the machine to the generator, Sophocles stands back and says, 

     "OK, that should do it. Wanna try turning on the electricity?"

     You hesitate briefly, the day before yesterday's incident still fresh in your mind.

     Sensing your reluctance, Molayne smiles at you and offers, "If it helps, the power breaker's on the ground. There aren't any ladders you need to climb on this time, but I can call Officer Nanu to come here as a safeguard, just in case you fall."

     Scowling, you point out that the Kahuna of Ula'ula Island had been the exact _last_ person on Earth that you  expected to be your savior. However, you agree to turn on the electricity to redeem yourself.

     With a flick of a switch, the lights come on, and the healing station hums to life. The three of you sigh in relief; you go over to the two young men and hug them. Sophocles freezes up, obviously discomforted by the physical contact, but his older cousin just laughs and pulls the three of you closer together.

     Your awkward celebration is interrupted by persistent buzzing coming from the younger boy's person. Sophocles, all too happy to minimize physical contact, separates himself from the three of you and checks his Pokédex.

     "Hunh? Why are there so many notifications...?" he mutters, and scrolls down on the device's screen. Sophocles then sighs.

     "What's wrong, Soffy?" Molayne asks his cousin.

     "There's a lot of trainers who want to challenge my trial," Sophocles says. "I can't spare a lot of time here. Now that the PMC's fixed, I'm afraid I have to go."

     "Ah, all right. Before Soffy goes- is there anything else the two of us can help you out with?" Molayne asks you.

     "No, that's okay," you shake your head and smile. "Fixing up Po Town is my responsibility, I don't want to bother you. But if you could think of a way to supply the town with electricity, I'd really appreciate it."     

     "Don't worry! I'll definitely figure out a solution to the Po Town electricity problem. I'm the Electric-type Captain, after all." Sophocles says confidently. He then asks you, "But...are you sure that's it?" 

     "Mm-hmm. Thank you so much for helping with the Pokémon Center."

     "OK. If you don't need anything else right now, I'll get going," the younger boy says, and stands up. He nods at you. "I'll see you later in Festival Plaza! Big Mo, catch you back at home."

     "See you in a bit, Soffy. I'll just get things cleaned up here and then I'll head back." 

     You quickly protest, "You don't have to..."

     "We made all this mess," Molayne says, cutting your protests off with a smile. "So it'd be rude if I didn't help you clean up." 

     The two of you begin to clean up the mess that you all had made in your attempt to repair the Po Town Pokémon Center, picking up assorted trash and electrical parts you had left behind.

     After making a good amount of progress cleaning up the Poké Mart, your eyes travel around the jauntily illuminated Pokémon Center. The sight of the place's a stark contrast to its previous run-down condition. You could hardly believe that the two had been once the same place. 

_...You can dislike what you were in the past, but-_

     Leaning against the window of the Exeggutor Express, Professor Kukui smiles widely at you and brushes some hair that had fallen onto your face.

_There's no telling who you'll be in the future._

    Molayne's voice snaps you back to reality. "Do you need any help grabbing that?"

    Realizing that you've spent the past few minutes zoned out and staring at your RotomDex, you shake your head to wave off your unacceptable thoughts. "That's okay. I, um...." you struggle to come up with a suitable excuse for your absentmindedness, and apologize to the older man. 

     "That's all right. Everyone spaces out from time to time," Molayne says, and picks up a couple Antidotes that were strewn on the ground. "Are you all right? You've been working here for what, more than half a week now?"

     The time had just flown right past you, hadn't it? You fidget, and then say: "I'm okay... Just thinking."

     "Hmm. The Masked Royal doesn't seem like his typical hot-blooded self, right...?" You blink, surprised. Molayne smiles apologetically and turns to you. "Sorry. I saw you staring at your PokeFinder contact for Professor Kukui. I get that you're worried about him- I am too, to tell you the truth."

     Stuffing the Antidotes into a box he had picked up off the floor, the lanky man continues, "My friend always works himself too hard, and between his research as the Pokémon Professor, competing in Battle Royals as the Masked Royal, and dealing with the Pokémon League, I don't know how he handles it. But..."

     "I'm sure that my friend can handle himself for now. You...should rest yourself, too. You don't look well."

     "I'm all right," you insist, and smile. The blond opens his mouth, as if he was going to say something, but then hesitates and lets it go. The two of you continue packing up your construction materials and clearing away the mess in the PMC in silence. 

     Before leaving, Molayne pauses at the entrance of the Pokémon Center, and turns around to face you.

     "You've seen those inflight movies that airlines put on just before takeoff, right?" he asks you. You nod- you'd watched one on your flight over to Alola from Kanto.

     "Well, the flight attendants always tell you to put your own air mask on before attempting to help others," Molayne scratches the back of his head uneasily. "I don't know why, but I was just reminded of those words for some reason. You should keep that in mind, too."

 

* * *

 

     Even though the Pokémon Center in Po Town was now supplied with electricity and partially functional, without anyone to staff the building, those things weren't worth a lot at all. After staring at the long list of Pokéfinder contact numbers that you had received two days ago, you travel to the Malie City PMC to interview the applicants that Acerola had so kindly rounded up for you. 

     Unfortunately, getting people to work at the Po Town PMC would prove to be harder than actually repairing the place. Half these people didn't have the faintest idea of the work that came with managing the Pokémon Center, let alone operating a healing station to bring Trainers' Pokémon back to a healthy state. And the other half that did apparently weren't aware of the very unique quirks and characteristics of Po Town. 

     As you wonder if Acerola just asked random people off the street to be Pokémon Center nurses, a persistent tap-tap-tap noise interrupts your thoughts.

     The Beauty that you had been interviewing for a barista position at the Pokémon Center cafe taps her manicured fingernails on the table restlessly. "Are you even listening?"

     What was with you this week? You weren't normally this absentminded. You blink. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

     The young woman impatiently repeats her question. "Am I going to be paid?"

     You hesitate, and then say, "I....think so?"

     Dumbfounded, she repeats, "You THINK so?"

     "I'd have to talk to the Kahuna."

     Why hadn't you thought of that? You couldn't expect these people to work without money, could you?

      Even amidst your protests, the Beauty stands up and leaves the interview. 

     After learning the hard way that the wrong answer to the question "Am I going to be paid?" is "Maybe?", you call in the next applicant. However, that young woman must have been bad luck or something, because the rest of the first set of applicants were either complete airheads or not at all interested in working in a town plagued by thunderstorms and only accessible via Sharpedo Jet.

     "No, wait, it's really not that bad-" you call out after an interviewee who had hastily made his departure after finding out about the perpetual rain in Po Town, and the job's lack of financial security.

     In between interviews for positions at the Po Town Pokémon Center, you sit by yourself at a table, and breathe out slowly. Your voice needed a break from the constant activity, and you were trying your hardest not to become discouraged. Thinking on what the last applicant had said, you fidget with the empty RageCandyBar wrapper in your pocket.

     "That place isn't the way it _used to be_ ," the Veteran had said before packing his bag. You asked the man how so, and he elaborated, "Well for one, the town didn't use to rain this much before..."

     As you sit there lost in thought, your ears pick up a conversation from the neighboring table. Looking up, you see a Rising Star gesturing to a violet-colored gemstone pinned on the inside of his jacket. "Check out the new Z-Crystal I got, sistah! Isn't it neat?"

      "Oh, boy- that's the Ghost Z-Crystal, isn't it? You passed Acerola's trial? That means you only have a couple more til you can face the Kahuna!" The Lass that sits across from him says excitedly.

     "And then after that...ooh. I can't wait til I've passed all of my island trials! Then I'll definitely challenge the Pokémon League!"

     "You think you can beat the Elite Four? Or become the Champion? I heard that they're on a whole 'nother level! The Kahunas already do so much for Alola, and are super strong. The Champion's probably some kind of super-human Pokémon Trainer..."

     A Youngster pipes up, "Hey, did you hear about the Kalos Champion? I heard that she's just finished her reconstruction of Geosenge Town. And didn't the Champion of Hoenn save the region from both Team Magma and Team Aqua?! He even stopped a meteor from striking the planet!"

     The Lass sighs dreamily. "Wow.... I wonder if we have a Champion like that?" 

     A Champion the Alola Region could be proud of...you had to do your best to be someone worthy of the title, didn't you?

    Your sense of determination a little renewed in your mind, you call the first person from the next set of applicants. You hope that at least one of them knows how to operate a Pokémon Center healing station.

     ...Or at the very least, make a good cup of Komala Coffee.

 

* * *

 

     After completing your interviews with the second of applicants for positions in the Po Town PMC, and finally experiencing some success, you go out to Malie City's botanical gardens to unwind. Hopefully the fresh, crisp air would do you some good. 

     Sitting on a bench underneath the gazebo at the heart of Malie Garden, you pop open the tab of a cardboard cup of Komala Coffee, and breathe in. The roasted smell's strangely comforting, and you exhale and try to relax. As you prepare to take a sip from the cup of coffee, you hear a young man's voice from behind the awning of the gazebo.

     "And why should we be treated differently than anybody else, huh? Just because we used to be...." his voice trails off, you can't quite hear the rest of his sentence. 

     "No means no, sonny! I told you before-" an older, more elderly voice fires back, but it's clear that the person was being intimidated. Getting up from your seat, you (regrettably) leave behind your cup of coffee to investigate the source of the agitated voices.

     You quietly make your way around the back of the structure. Peering in, you catch sight of three people, two Punk Guys and a Punk Girl surrounding an older woman. The woman has a strongly defiant expression on her face, while the others wore only a look of desperation and frustration.

     "Come on, lady," one of them says. He's wearing a red bandana, emblazoned with a Emboar on the fabric. "We're no different than anyone else!"

     "I told you already," she fires back. A Punk Guy with a black Jangmoo-o tattoo narrows his eyes at his companions.

     "Told ya being nice wasn't gonna solve anything! Guess we gotta do things the hard way-"

     That comment spurs you into action. "What's going on here?" you ask, walking into their line of sight. You look at the elderly lady. "Are you OK?"

     "Mind your business, _wahine_ ," a Punk Girl hisses at you. "We got beef with this old woman. Don't regret getting in our way, okay?"

     The Punk Guy with the bandana blows up a tuft of his dyed turquoise-blue hair in contempt. "Great. We're already having trouble with this old lady, and now we have to deal with this pain in the ass?"

     "Please, leave this woman alone." you say, and stand next to her. "She didn't do anything to you."

     " _Leave that woman alone,_ " the young woman mockingly parrots back at you in a sing-song voice. "Guys, I'm so scared. What're we gonna do?"

      As the group of delinquents continue to jeer at you, you move protectively in front of the older woman. "Just go," you whisper to her behind you; she nods and tells you that she'll come back with some help.

     "Nothing, that's what. Why should we listen to you?" You're getting a strange sense of deja-vu. Was there some universal etiquette book that Guzma made Team Skull Grunts memorize before they could join? 

     "Wait, guys..." the young man walks up to you and scrutinizes your mien. "I know this chick's face. She's that goody-two-shoes Pokémon Trainer, isn't she? That girl who Boss always complained about?"

     "Huh?" the Punk Girl exclaims, shocked. She then points to you, flabbergasted. "THIS girl's the Champion? She's a lot less impressive in person..."

     "Yeah, one of my friends thought they saw the Champ come in and out of our old place. She's a real _hero_ , this one." He sneers at you. "I heard she's trying to 'clean' it up."

     "Po Town? THAT dump?" The Punk Girl laughs disdainfully. "Why? You in the habit of chasing after _lost causes_ , lady?" 

     You say slowly, "The people of Ula'ula Island would really appreciate it if Po Town was cleaned up. If the town was restored, everyone in Alola-"

     The girl pushes your shoulder, and laughs scornfully. "Don't give me that crap! The people on this island don't 'preciate nothin'. All that time when we lived in that place, nobody said anything. Nobody cares about that place- not even the Kahuna."

     Another one of the Punk Guys, this one with a tattoo on his neck, comments,  "And what about us? Don't we need somewhere to live, too? What do you think's going to happen when you clean up the town? Do you think there's room for everyone in that place?"

     "All these people are gonna move in once you've cleaned up Po Town, and then our home'll disappear. It's because of _you_ that a lot of people don't have anywhere to go to," The Punk Guy with the bandana around his neck closes his eyes, and it occurs to you that there are tears in his eyes. "Team Skull was one of the only ways we could feel like a family."  
  
      _A... family?_

     "Like we _belonged_ somewhere," The young man then clenches his fists. "And now our boss is... Team Skull is... Because of you-!"  
  
     "What?" you say, and then protest, "No. No, that's not true-"

     "People like you don't understand what it's like to be born on the wrong side of the tracks," Tattoo Guy says, talking as if you weren't even there. 

     "Grr, enough talking! Just looking at her face makes me sick!" the young woman yells, and petulantly stomps her feet. "We can't just stand here and let her get away with what she's done!"

     "Hey- bet you she can't take down all of us at the same time," the Punk Guy with the red bandana says, and gets in your face. "Lady. Battle us. We won't take no for an answer."

     So much for your much needed coffee break. The battle commences, and you send out your first Pokémon. Hopefully, even though you were outnumbered, their Pokémon wouldn't prove to be too difficult to defeat. 

     However, your first Pokémon faints from being attacked three times in one turn. You send out your second Pokémon, gritting your teeth and think. There had to be some way to take on all three of them at once...

     As the battle rages on, a crowd gathers around the four of you, and the chattering of people grows louder in the vicinity. 

     "We should help that Pokémon Trainer-" a man's voice says. 

     Another woman's voice interrupts with, "But I don't want to get in the way..."

     "Those punks! Three against one?! That's hardly fair...!"

     Another voice pipes in with, "No, that's the Champion! She's going to totally trounce these losers!"

     Looking at the opposing Trainers' Pokemon- Crobat, Honchkrow, and Gyarados, something stands out to you. Wait. They're all Flying types, aren't they? It's a bit risky, but you could try using _that_ Pokémon...

     "Go," you switch out your current Polémon, throw a Beast Ball, and your Xurkitree comes out of its Poké Ball, disoriented. You hadn't used it in battle in a while. You command it to use Discharge, and it takes down two of the Pokémon in one fell swoop.

     The Bandana Guy's Crobat survives the hit, just barely, and moves slightly on the ground. Xurkitree screams, and fires off a blast of electricity at it. The Punk Guy, alarmed, jumps in front of his Crobat to shield it, and electricity bounces off of the ground onto nearby structures.

     "Wait, no-" you protest, and try to get in your Pokémon's way. "It's already hurt enough-"

     Your Xurkitree thrashes and whips one of its wiry appendages at you, pushing you to the ground. You land on your left side, underneath your arm, and grimace in pain. Hastily getting up, you spot the Trainer's Crobat rising from the ground. It attempts to attack your Pokémon, but is put down by a Thunderbolt almost immediately.

     As the Crobat goes down, the people around you cheer excitedly.

    "All right!"

    "That's our Champion! What can't she do?"

     "That's..." you say, and wince in pain. You glance down quickly to see your left  wrist swollen and inflamed from trying to intercept Xurkitree's attacks. "That's right, so just leave everything up to me!"

     You can't let these people down, right? You had to be a Champion who everyone could rely on.

     "Urgh- this isn't even worth the hassle!" the Punk Girl mutters, and returns her Pokémon back to its Poké Ball. Her eyes catch sight of something in the distance, and she stammers, "Oh, crap, its that guy...! I'm o-outta here!" 

     "Shit, really? Sorry, dude. You're on your own," the tattooed Punk Guy says, and the two of them run off. 

     "W-what're you guys leaving for...?" the Bandana Guy protests, and his eyes dart around, panicked. "Don't just leave me here!"

     As you wonder what's gotten the two of them so spooked, a low-pitched voice says, "Girl, how'd I know that you'd have something to do with this...?"

     You whirl around to see a very exasperated Officer Nanu, the old woman from before, and a younger ochre-skinned policeman. The older woman's arms are linked with the two police officers. She then tugs on Nanu's jacket and gestures to the Bandana Guy standing next to you. "See? This is one of the thugs I was telling you about!"

     "I can see that," he mutters. Nanu then turns to look at you. "Kid, are you hurt?"

     "No," you say, concealing your puffy left wrist behind your back. "I'm all right."

     Nanu raises an eyebrow, but says nothing in response to you. He then turns to the young man standing beside you. "Got anything to say for yourself, boy?"

     The Bandana Guy's face is sullen, and he makes no effort to defend himself. 

     "Nothing, huh?" the older man clicks his tongue, and nods to the man standing beside him. 

     "All right, Officer Nanu, I'll get him taken care of. But- miss, you were just in a Pokémon Battle, correct?" the younger policeman asks you. He has a wide, friendly face and a heavy-set jaw. "Let me heal your Pokémon for you."

     "Thank you," you say gratefully as he heals your Pokémon with a few Max Potions stashed away in his knapsack.  

     The policeman then yanks the other arm of the young man behind his back and forcibly clamps his hands together with a pair of steel handcuffs. "Of course, young lady. These ex-Team Skull Grunts are just good for nothings." the policeman says. "I'm sorry that you had to witness that. Come on. Off to the police station with you."

    _You...took away our family._

     You can't help but feel sorry for the Grunt as he is dragged away in handcuffs. Catching sight of an electrical burn on his shoulder, you run after the unhappy quad of people.

     "Wait!" you blurt out, and grab Nanu's exposed forearm with your uninjured hand. "....Don't arrest him. Please." You gesture to the the young man's shoulder, which was singed from the electricity from Xurkitree's Thunderbolt. "I just... he's hurt."

     His eyes widen as you look pleadingly into them, and you continue, "Team Skull was a long time ago...  If you turn him in, his chances of starting over aren't good. These people are just hurt- they can still turn their lives around."

     "I'd be inclined to agree with you if the Champion were someone like that, maybe!" the older woman says harshly. "But you heard what the policeman said- there's no hope for any of them."

     Nanu shakes his head and says, "Girl, do you even know what the recidivism rate in Alola is? Even if I let him go now, this kid's going to land himself back in jail in a few weeks."

     The police officer sighs. "The Kahuna's right. Most criminals can't be reformed. And ever since Team Skull was disbanded, it's been chaos- little gangs have been popping up everywhere. Some of them have gotten jobs, but mostly they're a drain on society..."

     "Please," you implore, not breaking your eye contact with the older man nor letting go of his forearm. "Doesn't everyone...deserve a second chance? It's not his fault. I-"

     Okay, so it was sort of completely his fault, but-

    But you couldn't just _let_ him be hauled away like that.

     Steeling yourself, you swallow down the lump in your throat. You then say, "I started it. He was just upset and the whole battle escalated." The police officer raises a finger to protest, but you cut him off: "I won't press charges. He needs to go to a PMC, not a jail."

     The younger police officer glances at Nanu for approval. The older man exhales deeply, and rubs his temples irritatedly. He then stares you down, almost as if trying to find a crack in the armor that was your obstinate expression.

     "If the victim won't press charges, there's no point in locking him up," he finally says, his burgundy-red eyes still fixed on you. "Uncuff him."

     The young man rubs his sore wrists and glowers at the pair of police officers. You smile thankfully at the two, and bow your head slightly. The older woman shakes her head, and raises her voice to object. "Kahuna Nanu-"

     Nanu snaps, "Listen, lady. You already brought me here on a _very_ misleading eyewitness report. And here I came anyway, because you had me believe that three punks were threatening an innocent, defenseless young girl with their Pokémon."

      _Huh? That wasn't what happened._

     He gestures to you and the Punk Guy. "But there are two people here, only one of them are injured, and the 'victim' in question isn't hurt at all. And out of the two of you, neither of your accounts of what happened match up."

    "But...if you really want me to do something," Nanu finally offers, "I can arrest _all three of you_ for wasting my time."

     The prospect of jail evidently not too appealing to the older woman, she shakes her head and insists that that won't be necessary. The Punk Guy puts a piece of gum into his mouth, and blows a bubble insolently at the Kahuna. "If you don't need anything from me, then I'm outta here. See ya." He walks away from the four of you.

     Something's still bothering you about the whole situation, so you turn to follow the young man. The younger policeman calls out at you, "Miss, we still need to take your official statement-"

     "I'll be back in a minute," you say, and catch up with the young man. Irritated, he cracks his neck from side to side and grinds his teeth. 

     "What do YOU want?"

     Remembering Gladion, you say remorsefully, "My friend, he was a part of Team Skull before, too. I'm sorry. For taking your family away from you." 

     "That's not even the point. Privileged people like you don't really get anything, huh." He scowls at you and yanks his arm away from you. "That old lady wouldn't rent out her apartment building to us 'cause we're ex-Team Skull Grunts. People don't like having former gang members around in their neighborhoods."

      _Huh?_

     "Why didn't you say anything to the Kahuna?"

     He retorts, "Like I'd be caught dead talking to a cop! Don't you get it, chick? There are only certain paths available to people in this region. The haves, and the have nots. And if you're a have not, well, you're just an _extra_ nobody wants."

     "You can come to Po Town anytime you want," you offer. "I'm sure we could find a place for you there-"

     The Punk Guy scowls at you. "Pfft. Like I'd want your help, lady," he says, and shoves you. You stare at the young man helplessly as he then dashes off.

 

* * *

 

     When you return back to Po Town, the sun is already setting in the haze of the clouds overhead. The rain pours down violently on your head, and you hurriedly get to work hammering loose boards on some of the houses. Machoke from your Poké Ride helps to move planks of wood that were too heavy for you to carry by yourself.

     Whilst working, you glance down at your left arm. Your wrist is red and swollen, and you wince in pain. The words of the people you had encountered today come to mind as raindrops trickle down your forehead.

_"That place isn't the way it used to be."_

  _"Well for one, it didn't use to rain this much before..."_

     You want to cry in frustration. You can't MAKE it stop raining. You remember the Beauty from your previous interview.  She had rolled her eyes at you before leaving.

_"Who'd want to work at that place, anyway? It's all rundown and full of thugs."_

     Is this...even worth it?

     No.

     Don't even think about that.

     No, it's worth it because-

_The Champion's probably some kind of super-human Pokémon Trainer..._

_...when we have our own Champion, they can show the rest of the world what's so great about Alolan Pokémon and their Trainers, yeah!_

_That's our Champion! What CAN'T she do?_

_A Champion the whole world will recognize..._

_I have faith in you, honey!_

_...It'll be like old times._

     The smiles of everyone keep you moving forwards. If you just push yourself harder, work a little harder, then- the happy faces of your family are within your grasp. They're just within your reach, if you could just try a little harder...

     After making some headway in repairing the shingles on one of the houses, you retire to the Po Town Pokémon Center, and take a short nap. Later that evening, you wake up with a blanket on you, even though you could swear that you hadn't put it there. The cloth of the fabric smells faintly of a dark, aromatic coffee, and Meowth hair.

     Staring at the now restocked but unstaffed Pokémon Cafe, you sigh and yawn. 

_I'd still really like that Komala Coffee..._

     Curling up on the couch that you had fallen asleep on, you spot a ceramic mug on top of the table directly adjacent to it. It's filled with a chestnut-brown liquid.  You lift the cup up to your lips, and inhale in. The scent's bittersweet and deep- unmistakably Komala Coffee. You blink, and rub your eyes again, making sure that you weren't stuck in another dream of yours.

     Was it magic? Were you a _psychic?_

     Even as you keep trying to reason away the existence of this cup of Komala Coffee to yourself, you decide to take a sip anyway. It's a little more bitter and not as sweet as you remember, but best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

     As you move to pick up the cup of coffee from the table again, a piece of paper from underneath the mug slides out onto the floor. You bend down and examine the thin piece of paper. _Po City Police Department_ is printed across the top of the sheet as a header, along with its Alolan address. Looking more closely at the piece of paper, you spot someone's sharp, precise handwriting printed on it.

      _Make sure you return my mug after you're done, girl. Only got the one._  

    _-Nanu_

     Well, you needed to talk to the Kahuna anyway, didn't you? You get up and stretch, then down the rest of the lukewarm liquid. Smiling, you make your way to the Po Town Police Station, not feeling quite as alone as you did before.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alolan/Hawaiian Glossary of Terms
> 
> ohana: an essential part of Alolan culture, ohana means family. however, the concept emphasizes that families are bound together and members must cooperate and remember one another. 
> 
> poi: the primary starchy staple food made from the underground plant stem or corm of the taro plant. it's a traditional part of Alolan/Hawaiian cuisine, and has a distinctly lavender-purple coloration.
> 
> wahine: the Hawaiian/Alolan word for woman or girl.


	6. Falling to Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if we suffer in doing so, we must do what we can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for the waiting, guys. I don't know if anyone reads these, but I'm so grateful for your continued kudoses, comments, and support. This is a longer update, so I hope you guys enjoy! 
> 
> We'll be diverging from some of the events in between | the lines in this chapter, so don't freak out! ;) I finally know where the story's going, so the rating has been adjusted accordingly. As always, if you have any feedback you want to leave, my inbox is always open!

   

     When you arrive at the Po Town Police Station, it's pretty late at night, and all the lights are off inside the building. The door's firmly shut. You should probably return the mug tomorrow, but you're sure you're definitely going to forget the coffee cup somewhere the next day. 

     After swearing to only be a moment, You jiggle the handle of the door's hinges slightly, and the door creaks open. You tiptoe into the empty station, empty mug in hand. You spot the desk where the older man had often sat, a cup of coffee and newspaper in hand, and resolve to place the mug there.

     Returning the coffee cup to its familiar home atop the circular brown stain at the desk, you look over the desk covered in police reports and paperwork.

     Guess Nanu did do some police work after all...

     As you move to leave, you feel something soft and fuzzy bumping against your calves. Looking down, a silver-blue Meowth mews at you sadly. 

      _Oh..._

     "You're hungry, right?" you ask, and it softly cries, affirming your suspicions. You lift the Pokémon up into the desk. Not one to leave anyone (or Pokémon) in need, you whisper, "Okay, I'll get you something to eat. Wait here."

     You rustle through the cupboards in the desk, but without the lights on, it's hard to see anything. Your hands fumble around in the dark, but you eventually come upon a small unopened can of Seaking fish in one of the desk's drawers.

     After discovering that no pull open tab was present on the container, you head to the kitchen, and retrieve a small can-opener. Taking a seat at the front desk, you open the can of fish and empty it out into a dish. The Meowth uncurls itself from its resting position and begins to eat.

     Smiling, you watch the small Pokémon for a time, then realize you're still holding the can-opener in one of your hands.

_I should probably return this..._

You go back to the kitchen, and return the can-opener back to its rightful place in the drawer.

     Suddenly, and without warning, a cold object presses against the back of your head.

     "Don't move," you hear Nanu's voice say from behind you. The distinct click of a firearm being cocked makes the blood run cold in your veins. 

      "You realize you're in the progress of _committing a crime,_ don't you?" he says, the authoritative tone in his words rooting you to the spot. "Put your hands where I can see them."

     After you raise your hands slowly above your head, he orders you to then turn around. You obey his directions, and say slowly, "I came to return your coffee cup," you gulp down the lump forming in your throat. "Please don't shoot me."

     If you died all in the name of feeding stray Meowth, you're pretty sure that you'd never forgive yourself for your utter stupidity.

     Upon seeing that it was indeed you and not some criminal coming to rob him of life and limb, Nanu exhales sharply. "Cripes, girl," he sighs, lowering the end of the handgun's barrel to the floor. Nanu then runs a hand through his muted silver-grey hair. "It couldn't have waited until tomorrow? I could've _shot_ you."

     What's his deal? Didn't Nanu tell you that he only had the one coffee mug? (Which, by the way, said a lot about the guy- either he was a cheapskate or he was just too lazy to buy another one.) You retort, "If I returned it tomorrow morning, you wouldn't have a mug to pour your coffee in."

     Nanu states flatly, "So you just barge into dangerous folks' homes in the dead of night without asking? Sounds real smart."

     "I thought you were sleeping," you protest. However, you then realize you're digging an even deeper ditch for yourself, and drop the subject. "I'm sorry. Thank you for the coffee," you say, and Nanu scoffs.

     "Hope it was worth breaking and entering for, kid," he returns the handgun to its holster on the belt he wears around his waist.

     Definitely not- that entire experience was terrifying. You make a mental note to file it under the folder of _"events I don't want to experience ever, ever again,"_  along with such exciting examples as witnessing your best friend's mother turn into a psychotic Pokéhuman hybrid, or falling off a wooden bridge to your near-untimely demise.

     But now that you're looking at the older man more closely, you realize he's wearing only his vermilion-red undershirt, a belt holstering his firearm, and a pair of black boxer shorts.

    _Oh. He was probably preparing to go to sleep..._

     "If that's all you're here for, I suggest you head home, girl. I'm going to bed. Worn out as is." 

     "Wait, before you go to bed," you say, and he pauses in his tracks. "I wanted to ask you a question."

     Turning around to face you, Nanu says, "Shoot."

     Ignoring his rather unfortunate choice of words, you breathe out calmly. "The Po Town Pokémon Center's mostly functional now, but it still needs people to staff it," you begin. "All of the people I interviewed wouldn't work somewhere unless they were paid..."

     Nanu gives you a pointed look, then adjusts the Dark-type Z-Crystal pendant around his neck. "Hmph. And that's the problem, isn't it? People won't work for nothing. No such thing as a free lunch..."

     "Is there any way that the Ula'ula Island could pay for the staff at the Pokémon Center? I know it's asking for a lot... but it's important that the people there are paid for their work."

     There's a brief silence, then the older man says, "There's no money."

     "W-what..?"

     Nanu repeats, "There's no money in the Ula'ula Island budget for it."

     "Why not?" you ask.

     Yawning, he says, "You don't understand, kid. That town hasn't been inhabited by regular folk for some time now- after the first couple of years, folks here just wrote it off as a waste of resources and time."

     "It wouldn't be a waste if someone invested the effort into it," you argue. "Is there any way I could talk to someone in charge...?" And considering the fact that just moments ago the older man was pointing a firearm at you, you kind of hoped that person wasn't the Kahuna.

      "Hmph... Lucky for you, tomorrow morning at 8 AM, the Malie City Council's holding their annual budget hearing at the Community Center. If you went there and plead your case to the council members, maybe you'd have a shot of getting some money," he says, finally. "They probably aren't gonna be too happy about it, but what can you do."

     Nanu then raises an eyebrow. "I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you, kid. Ula'ula Island's revenue's short this year. You'd be lucky to get peanuts."

    After retorting that you couldn't just give up without trying, you then apologize again for disturbing him, and head back to your house to rest. 

 

* * *

 

     Early in the morning the next day, a persistent buzzing from your RotomDex wakes you up. Rubbing your weary eyes, you glance at the device.

      _It has to be at least 5:30 in the morning..._

     "Missed calls? There's one from Lillie, Lillie, Lillie, Lillie-" you read as you scroll down on the screen of the device. Your voice increases in octave with each repetition of her name. "Something must be wrong-"

     After the you hear the click of the receiver being picked up, you nearly shout, "Lillie?" into the device. "Are you all right?!"

      Her frantic, worried face does nothing to alleviate your fears. The blonde girl bows her head apologetically. "Sorry! I'm so sorry-"

     "Wait, slow down! Why are you sorry? Are you OK?"

     "My flight to Alola's been postponed due to inclement weather," Lillie says, and she keeps bowing her head as she apologizes over and over. "I won't be there for another week, at least... I'm so sorry-"

     You're a tad let-down, but you shake your head and insist, "It's okay, Lillie! Don't worry about it. I thought something bad had happened to you..."

      "Anyway, now that I know that you're okay, let's change the subject. Tell me about your adventures in Kanto!"

     "Oh, it's so wonderful..." She sneezes again, and her face brightens considerably. "I rode a bicycle for the first time yesterday!"

     "Wow, bikes are so expensive!" you exclaim. "How'd you get one?"

     "Um... I didn't pay for it. The owner of the store gave it to me with no charge..." Lillie awkwardly says. Putting her finger on her chin, she continues, "He said that, ' _A lovely girl like you deserves to have the wind blow through her hair while riding a bicycle...! Please, take this.'_ He insisted, and insisted, and insisted until I gave in..."

    You laugh a little, you can't really imagine having the problem of being so beautiful that people just flung their prized merchandise and services at you. It sounded nice, though.

    "But he's right about the wind part!  When I rode a bike with Professor Kukui on Route 3, the wind went everywhere..." you smile fondly at the memory. "But it was fun."

     "Oh, on Route 3? That road's dangerous, isn't it...? Professor Kukui offered to take me once or twice, but after the incident on the bridge with Nebby, I was too afraid to go..." she murmurs. "How is the professor doing now?"

     "He's okay, still working hard," you say. However, you don't want to lie to the young woman, so you add, "But I haven't talked to him in a few days." 

     "Oh, he's always like that, isn't he?Sometimes I think he needs more supervision than me... If you don't mind, please check up on him from time to time." After a brief pause, Lillie says softly, "Um... Also...I hope you don't mind me saying this, but-"

     "The way that you look when you're thinking about him... It reminds me of myself, back then," she smiles sadly. "I wanted to..." the younger girl hesitates, and shakes her head.

     The thought had occasionally popped up in your mind when you watched the two of them converse, but it's still surprising to hear it straight from the girl's mouth. "Lillie, you liked him? Professor Kukui?"

     "Y-yes, I did briefly," Briefly turning pink, Lillie stammers a bit. She then nods. "He's kind and open, and you feel as if you can tell him everything... right?"

    "That's..." you say, but your voice trails off.

    _...right, isn't it._

     "We should go bike riding here in Alola sometime," you say, changing the subject, and Lillie agrees with you. "Make sure you get here quickly, so we can do that! I also have a surprise to show you when you get here..."

     "Surprise?" she asks you, her lips form into an o-shaped circle. "Is it a nice one?"

     "Mm-hmm."

     She nods. "All right! I definitely have to visit now..."

     As the two of you made small talk about her experience in challenging a Pokémon Leader gym for the first time, time passes by quickly, and the time for you to depart grows near.

     You say your goodbyes, but before hanging up, Lillie says softly, "Have you been sleeping well? Rebuilding a town by yourself must be hard work... I know you're so strong that you never needed anyone's help. But, please..." she pleads. "Didn't you say before that _'just because you are the Champion doesn't mean you can do everything'_? Remember that...? Take care of yourself, too."

     "There are some things that can't be fixed by yourself."

 

* * *

 

     As you sit on an uncomfortably hard wooden bench whilst waiting for the doors of the Malie Community Center's conference room to open, your thoughts drift off to the first time you had ridden on a bike in Alola.

     "Hey, cousin- do you know how to ride a bike?" Kukui asked you. You nodded your head affirmatively. He gestured to the pair of bicycles next to the lab's entrance. "I've been meaning to take these for a spin- but nobody really bikes here on the islands. Guess the Poké Ride App's just too popular, yeah!"  

     "Cycling is really popular in Kanto," you said, while putting on the helmet he offered you. They even have a Cycling Road devoted to just bikers."

     Smiling brightly at you, he said, "Woo, then you must be a pro! I'll try to keep up!"

     As the two of you biked over the overpass and onto the creaky wooden bridge on Route 3, you laughed, "I thought you said you were bad at this!" You furiously pedaled to keep up with Professor Kukui, but his bike was still ahead of yours by more than a couple of yards. The wind viciously blew around the two of you, causing the wooden boards to whine and groan in protest.

     "I am!" Kukui said, however, there was no trace of exhaustion in his voice. Turning back to look at you, he then yelled from ahead, "Do you wanna win, cousin?"

     "Yes!" you shout, and he grinned.

     Slowing the pedal on his bicycle, Kukui fell behind you. "Then, win!"

     You pedal even faster, and feeling the rush of wind blow past your face, you laugh without a care in the world. Shakily finding your balance, you let go of the handlebars, lifted your bottom off of the bicycle, and spread your arms out wide.

     You cheered and whooped, the violent gusts of wind failing to sway your precarious position on the bicycle. "I win!" Grinning, you looked behind you. The wide smile on his face makes your heartbeat quicken in your chest. Your bicycle came to a halt at the patch of grass underneath the cliff's overpass.

     "Looks like you did," Kukui said, starting to laugh along with you. "Great job!"

     "Hey," you caught sight of a pair of footprints in the dirt, and dismounted your bike. "Those are Bagon footprints aren't they...? I didn't know they lived on Melemele."

     "That's right, cousin. The dragons are pretty rare in these parts, though..." Kukui also got off of his bicycle to peer more closely at your find. He crouched down, then peered at the tracks made in the wet earth. He stood up and smiled at you. "Wanna know why I brought you here?"

     You nod, but truthfully, you'd go wherever the Professor told you to if he asked.

     "The Bagon live on Route 3 only 'cause of the high cliffs. It's an essential part of their habitat, yeah!"

     "Essential?"

     "Yeah. You could say that it's coded in their DNA..." Kukui said, and closed his eyes. He then pointed at the high part of the cliff. "See that? There's a Bagon right there."

     "The Pokémon need the high cliffs because they think that if they work hard enough, they'll sprout wings and take to the sky. And even though it may be an impossible dream... _they fall over and over, but the Bagon won't give up on their dreams of flying."_

     Taking a few steps closer towards the  cliff, you spotted a Bagon preparing to fall.

      _Maybe if I put my efforts toward that goal, and I tried with all my heart, that sincerity, too, would..._

_...reach you someday._

     The wet grass felt damp under your shoes, and as you turned around to face him, you found yourself back in the Champion's Room.

     "The truth is, there's one more person you have to battle if you want that title," Kukui puts his hands on his hips. "And of course that Trainer is me!"

      _Do you want to win?_

     After the battle, he grins, and scratches his head. "I couldn't win even though I went all out... But what a refreshing feeling. Woo!"

     But the look Kukui gave you then, smiling as brightly as he always does, 

      _Then, win!_

     Was the same one he wore when you 'defeated' him before on the bridge. 

     And you realize even now, that with his 'defeat', you haven't moved on from those feelings that keep you in the same place.

 

* * *

 

     The doors to the Malie Community Center's meeting room swing open, and you stand nervously, breathing in to calm your nerves. You catch sight of a young man muttering to his companion as he walks out, "How does it make sense to deny us funding based on _that?!_ I can't believe this..."

     "It's okay, maybe next year," she offers, and your heart drops into your stomach. Other people needed money for their projects too, and they probably had a better idea of what they were doing than you...

 A voice cheers, _That's our Champion! What can't she do?_

Another voice says, this one an older man's, says:

      _I have faith in you._

     Those words resounding in your head, you ball your hands up into fists in determination. As you enter the room, you look around the perimeter for any familiar faces. Sitting at a long, oval table, a group of people chatter and squabble amongst themselves. You spot Sophocles, Molayne, and Acerola sitting amongst the fracas of people, and feel slightly comforted.

     Beaming, Acerola waves you down, and pats one of the empty seats next to her. "Big sis! Sit over here!" 

     Taking your seat next to the younger girl, she smiles and asks you, "Hee-hee! Came to sit on a City Hall meeting? It's pretty fun... We get to talk about all the stuff concerning Ula'ula Island- it's like we're royalty, and the townspeople are our loyal subjects!"

     "I don't know, Acerola, the paperwork can get pretty tedious at times," Molayne laughs, sitting directly across from the younger girl. His cousin sits in the chair next to him, his head on the desk, undoubtably fast asleep. Noticing you, he then says, "Hey, it's the Champ! Interested in Ula'ula Island politics?"

     "Not really," you say, a little unnerved by the loud ruckus everywhere. "Are Council meetings always like this...?"

     "Ha-ha, it's only like this when the annual budget for the island needs to be approved," he says. Molayne then asks you, "What brings you to the Malie City Council meeting, then?"

     "Um, I'm here to-"

     An older woman, her red-brown hair tied severely into a high bun, interrupts you mid sentence and calls the meeting into order. Before turning his attention to the rest of his fellow council members, Molayne smiles apologetically at you and mouths, _'Tell me later.'_

    "So, this year's been pretty unsuccessful for Ula'ula, revenue-wise," the older woman says. "The upkeep of Malie Garden cost twice as last year, due in part to the large amounts of money spent on cleaning up litter around the park and the cost of importing Pokémon to clear away the graffiti."

     "No thanks to those good-for-nothing Team Skull guys," a woman with long aqua-blue hair points out.

     "The Hokulani Observatory's doing pretty well," Molayne offers gently. "We pulled in more funds thanks to the decrease in ticket price for the Exeggutor Express buses that run up and down the mountain."

     However, one of the other Council members retorts, "You'll forgive me for saying this, Captain, but... There's only so much one can do when many other members of society refuse to contribute in meaningful ways!"

     "That's right. Honestly, it'd be better for us if those thugs just disappeared from the face of the earth..." another woman mutters, and your hands clench up into fists. You bite your lip and say nothing.

     After the members get into an hour-long squabble about where exactly to pull sources of revenue from, a man cries half-way through, "There's not enough money to keep everything running!", and that feeling of dread only looms larger in your mind.

     "Acerola," you whisper to the younger girl. "Is it always this bad...?"

     Acerola shakes her head full of violet curls from side to side. "He's just blowing up hot air. But...it'll be a struggle this year, for sure," she whispers back. "The Thrifty Megamart was supposed to be a _huuuge_ money maker for the island! Ever since Tapu Bulu ruined the place, we've been struggling to find other ways to make money..."

     The older woman exhales. "All right. If that's all, we'll move forward to approve the budget for this year-"

     "Actually, the Champion's here today," Molayne says quickly, and lifts his chin, motioning to you. "I believe she had something she wanted to talk to us about?"

     What must be more than 10 pairs of eyes turn their attention to you, and stare you down. You smile uneasily.

     Don't _you_ have great timing.

     "Thanks, Molayne," you say, although with all these eyes on you, you'd much rather melt into a puddle on the floor. "I'm...actually here to ask if it would be possible to allocate some funds to rebuild Po Town."

     And with those words, it's like you had just commanded an Electrode to detonate in the room. The people all around the table erupt into an uproar.

    "Did she say Po Town? Did I hear her right?"

    "People haven't set foot in there for _years_! It's just as useful to us as a gang hideout...!"

    "How can she ask for something like that? It's completely unfeasible!" 

     "It's just to pay for the staff at the Pokémon Center for now," you argue, but nobody was listening to you. Where was that police-issued megaphone when you needed it? You couldn't get a word in edgewise with these people.

     Too preoccupied with trying to make your case amid the squabbling people, you fail to notice the door to the conference room softly clicking shut. 

     "And here comes the noise again..." a voice sharply sighs. "Look, can all of you cool it with the commotion? It's 9:05 in the AM and I haven't even finished my coffee yet..."

    With those words, the ruckus from the table immediately dies down. You turn your head to locate the source of the voice, but Acerola squeals happily, "Heee~ey, Uncle Nanu! You came to a City Council meeting!"

    Glancing at Nanu's familiar weary face and tousled ash-grey hair, you breathe out with relief. As much as you hate to admit it, you've never been happier to see his face in your life. 

     "Don't mind if I let myself in," he says, taking the empty seat next to you and Acerola. Glancing at your relieved face, Nanu smirks. "That smile's for me, girl? How flattering..." 

     One of the older men, this one a Veteran with a thinning hairline snaps, "The Malie City Council meeting started at _8 AM,_ Kahuna Nanu."

     "Huh. Must be my clock. Darn thing's always running on Alolan time*," Nanu says flippantly. However, the brazenly irreverent stare he gives the younger man screams, ' _So? What're_ _YOU gonna do about it?'_ He then nods at you, and says, "Repeat what you were saying before, kid. I wasn't here for most of it..."

Steeling yourself for their no doubt less than enthusiastic reactions, you repeat, "I wanted to ask for a temporary budget to pay for the people to work at the Pokémon Center in Po Town."

     They begin to talk amongst themselves again, but this time, their signs of discontent are limited to soft, hushed whispers and murmurs. 

     "Unless there's any direct conceivable benefit to the people of the island, we can't approve your request," the auburn-haired woman says.

     "And I'd be happy to explain," you say. "There would be a lot of benefits to rebuilding Po Town-"

     "What benefits COULD there be?" the Veteran protests, standing up from his chair. "It's completely isolated from the rest of the island, and the only thing it's known for nowadays is being the home to those Team Skull burnouts!"

     He turns to the heather-haired man sitting beside you. "And you know what that place is like, Kahuna Nanu!"

     Setting down his cardboard cup of coffee, Nanu remarks, "What I _do_ know is that you're making a fool of yourself by jumping the gun, sonny. Sit down, and don't raise your voice at me. I'm not deaf." The older man continues, a harsh edge in his voice, "I don't understand what the problem is, that you keep cutting her off. Are you all hard of hearing?"

     You don't want him to get into an argument on your behalf, so you cut in. "No, it's okay, I-" you say, but a middle-aged woman cuts you off again with, "The problem isn't that we didn't hear her, Officer." 

     Another man protests, but this time with a little less conviction in his voice,  "I-It's that we simply do not have the money in the Ula'ula Island budget, Kahuna Nanu."

     The older man counters with, "What's the harm in hearing the girl out? No one's asking you to fork over the cash right away..."

     "All you need to do is... just look at the place," you plead. "Po Town could be really great with locals who wanted somewhere to get away from the big city for a while. Or for Pokémon Trainers who want to train in rainy conditions... I've put a lot of work into the town, and I think a lot of people would like it."

    "Mm-hmm! Or we could build some _new residences_ there for people to stay," Acerola offers. "It would bring lots of new people into the area!"

    The group of people reluctantly glance around at each other. After a brief period of silence, Molayne offers kindly, "It's true. The Champion asked me and my cousin to help out with providing electricity to the Pokémon Center. She's very serious about her project! Isn't that right, Soffy?" After being nudged gently awake, Sophocles nods in agreement.

    Acerola giggles. "Oh, and me! I helped, too! I got all these PokéFinder numbers for her, and people are definitely interested in working there if they're paid!"

     "...and for what it's worth," you say deliberately, "No one ever said there'd be a Pokémon League in Alola. But ever since Professor Kukui founded the League, more people have been coming to the region to challenge the Elite Four  here and learn more about Alola."

     Nanu finishes with, "At least go look at the place before you go making any hasty decisions." His burgundy-red eyes gaze around at the group of people sitting with the table, almost as if daring them to raise a single word in protest.

     Cowed, one of the older men offers timidly, "I-I suppose that we could take a glance at the town tomorrow and decide if it was worth investing a share of the island residents' taxes into..."

    And that was that.

    Outside the conference room after the meeting, Acerola bounces up and down and cheers. "Yippee! I knew that we would get it done!" 

    "It's because of all of you," you say, smiling. "Thank you so much!"

    "Ooh, I'm so happy, I could cry!" she sniffs, then twirls around in a circle playfully. "This is super great! Now you don't have to live in that hole in the wall police station anymore, Uncle Nanu!" 

    "Hmph... That place suits me fine. And don't go popping the bubbly just yet, kids." Nanu says. He then points out, "Council said that they'd look at the place. I didn't hear anything about the funding being a sure thing."

    "Aww, you're such a little black raincloud, Uncle Nanu!" Acerola whines. "Lighten up a little! You're really great at being Kahuna and at police work... It's 'cause of you, that they even listened to us in the first place!"

    "She's right," you say, smiling. "Thank you. For standing up for me. If you keep this up, I'll have no choice but to call you my hero!"

    "Did you hear that, Uncle? A _hero_! Isn't that wonderful? You're like a gallant knight, riding in to save a princess in distress!"

     The thought of the older man in armor makes you giggle a little to yourself. Nanu then scoffs dismissively. "You'd be sorely mistaken if you think I'm anything close to a hero, girl."

     "Aww, come on, Uncle Nanu... Me and big sis are _suuuuper_ grateful- so you should be happy, too!" She then grins mischievously and gives Nanu a knowing smile. "And you know how we celebrate good news, right?"

     The older man hastily attempts to protest, but not to be dissuaded, Acerola swiftly pulls the two of you into a tight bear hug. Glancing sideways at Nanu, your eyes meet, and you smile at him. He quickly looks away, and coughs.

    "Ace," his voice notably strained, Nanu then wheezes, "You're choking the life outta me..."

     "Hee-hee! I don't care, we should celebrate!" she chirps. "And celebrations are best with hugs, kisses and fancy parties, fit for royalty! Don't you think, big sis?"

    Laughing, you agree, although you weren't _too_ sure about the kissing part. However, as Acerola hugs the two of you tighter together, she puts more pressure on your sprained wrist. You can't help but wince and pull away from the younger girl's embrace. Looking down at your arm, Acerola gasps.

    "Oh no, big sis..." she covers her hand with her mouth, and frowns. "What happened?! Are you okay?" 

     Before you have the time to conceal your arm from sight, Nanu's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of your injured wrist. Speaking slowly and deliberately, he says, "Girl... When'd you get that?" but the tone of his words imply that he knew _exactly_ how you received said injury.

    Hiding your arm behind your back out of view, you say, "It's nothing, I'm fine." Acerola reaches out toward you, but you insist as you back away, "Really! I'm okay. I need to get back to work..."

    "Thanks for helping out," you say quickly to the older man, and head out of the Malie Community Center.

 

* * *

 

     When you return to Po town, you resume work on one of the dilapidated houses, but the constant rain makes it hard to accomplish anything without getting frustrated **.**  Looking around now, you notice that many of the houses' paint had either worn away or become chipped. As the rain pours down, you look down at your wrist, which was now much more swollen than before and had several shallow nicks on it.

     "Hey, partner," Rotom buzzes. "You zzhould led take a break, zz-zzt..."

    You shake your head stubbornly. "The Malie City Council's coming to check out the town tomorrow, and I only have two days left before I have to return to the Pokémon League."

    "Everyone needs a break, bud," your Pokémon points out. "Why don't you take some time to call up the Profezzzor? I'm sure he'll be happy to hear from his favorite student," Rotom says.

     Glancing at your RotomDex, you remember Lillie's words:  _Please check up on him from time to time._

"Okay," you say, and sit down on a nearby bench. After you hear the click of "Hi," you say softly. "Is Professor Kukui there?"

     The assistant's brow furrows worriedly, and he pauses, almost as if he was figuring out what to tell you. 

     Hesitantly, the young man then says, "No... he's at the Hau'oli City Pokémon Center. The professor was injured pretty badly yesterday after a Battle Royal match..." The assistant asks you, "Did you want to give a message for him when he returns to work?"

     You blink.

    _No. It can't be...!_

_The professor said-_

_He said he'd-_

_Be fine._

     "N-no, that's fine..." you clench the device tightly in your hand. "Thank you for telling me."

     In a blur, you drop your materials off hastily at the front of the Po Town Police Station and rush to the Pokémon Center in Hau'oli City. After purchasing a bouquet of flowers at the florist next to the building, you find your way to Professor Kukui's room. Outside the door to his room, you breathe in, and prepare to go in, when- 

     You hear a young woman's voice from behind the door, and quickly conceal yourself behind a Oran Berry shrub in an ornamental planter.

     "Things can't simply go on like this! This has to change-" she says, frustrated. "You're going to _kill yourself_ that way! What about us...? You promised me that you would always put your family first..."

     "I know-" you hear Professor Kukui's voice, he sounds uncharacteristically tired and worn. "I know that I was being reckless..."

     "Sorry? _Sorry...?_ I can't even believe you right now, Kukui." Burnet starts to cry. He pulls her in tight, and smooths her hair in an attempt to console her. 

     "You know I love you more than anything else, yeah?" he says, combing through her hair. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll  make it up to you, honey."

      _Right._

     Realizing that in that room there was no space for a third person, you step out from behind the planter, flowers still in hand. Before leaving, you smile, and give the bouquet of hydrangeas to the Nurse Joy at the front desk. 

     "What's this?" she asks.

     "Oh, uh..." Scrambing to make up an excuse, you say, "It's from Patient 6's wife down the hall. She wants to thank you for your kind, attentive service."

     "That's too sweet! Isn't Professor Kukui the patient in Room 06?" she coos, and takes the wrapped paper of flowers from your hands. "Professor Burnet and Kukui are always so wonderful when they're here- even last month, they donated a part of the proceeds from their research to buy toys for the sick children at the Pokémon Center..." 

     She continues, stroking the petal of a hydrangea, "They're truly the spitting image of a loving, compassionate couple, don't you think? I'm so envious!"

_Me too._

     After mumbling vague words of agreement, you excuse yourself from the Pokémon Center.

 

* * *

 

     After returning to the Pokémon Center in Po Town, something strikes you as odd about the place. Looking around the perimeter, the building seemed curiously empty. You blink.

     Huh? Where were your construction materials? The only thing that's left inside the building are the items that Team Skull had left behind from before.

     Thinking that the Kahuna might be able to help you, you head to the Po Town Police Station to ask if he had seen where the materials you had dropped off were.

     "They're behind the station," Nanu says, and raises an eyebrow. "You dropped them off here a few hours ago."

     In your haste to check on the professor, you had forgotten where you had placed the materials you were using to work.

     "Oh, right," you say, and smile gratefully. "Thanks for watching over them. I didn't know if anyone would steal them, so..." You leave to retrieve your materials when-

     Suddenly, he walks toward you, takes your wrist and pulls up your sleeve. Surprised by the contact, you try to pull your arm away, but his grip holds fast on your wrist.

     "What're you doing?" you stammer, and attempt to pull your arm away again, to no avail. The older man's grip's like an steel clamp. "L-let go."

     If every police officer in Alola had grasps like this, what'd they need handcuffs for, anyway?

     "Sprained your wrist, huh? Why didn't you say anything about it?"

     "...It's not a big deal- I can work through this."

     He raises an eyebrow. "Can you?"

     "I'm the Champion- if I can't do this, then..." you shake your head, not willing to think of the alternative. "I'm alright, really."

     Nanu sighs, and motions for you to sit. The wooden chair is hard and uncomfortable, and with this bright fluorescent light shining in your face, it feels like he's trying to extract a confession from you. As he reaches into a cabinet on the far side of the wall, you can hear the older man swear and curse the furniture's height.

     You fidget nervously in the chair, and call out, "It's all right. You don't have to bother-"

     He returns with a gauzy roll of white fabric, two unlabeled bottles of varying sizes, and a package of cotton pads, some of them stained with brown-red spots.  "You can drop the tough act here, girl. Not going to bite you." Nanu sits down at the small table across from you, and sets down the items he had been carrying in his arms.

     "Take two of these," he says, and hands you a bottle of pills and a glass of water. The paper label is so worn away that you can barely make out the letters printed on the bottle, but it's definitely some variety of generic pain relief medication. Seeing you scrutinize the bottle, Nanu chuckles and unwinds a roll of gauze on his lap. "If I wanted to poison you, there're better ways to do it. Hold out your arm and extend."

     "Ah, that hurts," you yelp as he examines your wrist. The limb throbs with a dull pain. After he twists it too far in one direction, you flinch, and instinctively pull away. "Can't you be a little nicer to me?" you ask him, irritated.

     "Being about as nice as I can be," he snorts. "Where was this spunk earlier at the meeting, girl?"

    "That's different," you fire back. 

    "So...you're okay with mouthing off to me, but when it comes to a bunch of mealy-mouthed halfwits, you're spineless, huh? Didn't your parents ever tell you to respect your elders?"

    "That saying mostly applies to people who're at least 60," you smartly retort. "Are you that old, Officer? Should I call you Grandpa Nanu, then?"

     He barks out a short, halting laugh. "Ha! I'm not that old yet, girl. Looks like you've got me there."

     After your short verbal exchange, silence hangs in the air. Nanu soaks a clean white cotton pad with the fluid from one of the unlabeled bottles, and the sharp, acerbic scent of disinfecting alcohol stings your nose.

     Abruptly, the older man then says, "Thought you hid it pretty well, huh?"

     "What?"

     Nanu clarifies, "If I had known that you had been injured because of the Pokémon battle that boy instigated, I would've had grounds to arrest him without your say-so."

     "He didn't deserve to go to jail," you argue, watching him wipe down your wrist with an alcohol-soaked cotton pad. "That woman- she wouldn't rent out her apartment to them because they used to be part of Team Skull... He was upset because he was being treated unfairly."

     "Unfair, huh...." he mutters. After a brief silence, the older man opens his mouth to speak again. "Would you?" Nanu asks.

      _What kind of question's that?_ "Of course I would," you fire back. "Everyone has it in them to do good."

     "Then you're a naïve, soft-hearted fool, girl. People'll just tell you what you want to hear," he scoffs. "Nobody tells 100% of the truth if it doesn't suit them. In all my years as a cop, I've learned one thing: everyone has an _ulterior motive_ for doing the actions they do."

     Staring you dead in the eye, Nanu concludes his sentence with, "And you're no different."

     "That's not true."

     "Huh, that'd be news to me, kid. Tell me, then. If..." Pausing to wind your wrist with more gauze, he continues, "...you weren't the Champion, would you just consider this place a wash? The people of this island have."

     "Or..."

     He suggests, "Are you doing this for _that guy's_ sake?"

     You're getting a bad feeling about the turn this conversation has taken, but your left arm's currently being held captive by a roll of long gauze, so you can't escape.

     You shake your head. "I don't...what are you talking about?"

     "Don't play dumb, girl. It doesn't suit you," Nanu retorts sharply. "That person who told you about how great this place used to be...wouldn't happen to be the prof, would it?"

     You say nothing, and he clicks his tongue. "Silence speaks volumes, girl. Gonna take that as an _admission of guilt._ "

     "You've got a good heart, I'll give you that, kid," he says, while finishing up winding your arm with gauze. "But if you're doing this to get the prof's attention, you're going to be disappointed."

     You stick your chin out defiantly. "Why does it matter? **"**

     "Heh. Your answer- that won't do." he secures the gauze with electrical tape. "If you don't have a good reason to be here, you'll get burnt out."

     Feeling resentful of his 'advice', you stand up and thank him for the concern, but insist that you're all right. As you leave the station, you hear the older man's voice from behind you:

     "Girl,  if you don't have a good reason to be here... why stay?"

 

* * *

 

     As the sun sets in the sky **,** sweat beads on your forehead as you carry your equipment back to the Pokémon Center. Putting back the paint cans on the shelves, a familiar voice greets you with, "Working hard as always, huh, cuz?"

     You turn around to see Professor Kukui, leaning on a crutch, glasses askew on his tanned face. His right leg is in a cast. You immediately stand up to help him, but he shakes his head and slowly makes his way to you.

     Watching him like that, your heart feels like it's being squeezed from the inside out into nothing but pulp.

_He came here, even though he's hurt..._

"Are you all right? I heard about what happened..." you say, unable to take your eyes off of his cast. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to come..."

     "Nah, that's okay, cousin. But you're right-I've seen better days, yeah," he laughs, and scratches his chin. "But I thought I'd drop by your worksite! Wow, this place is definitely looking better," he puts a hand on your shoulder, and smiles.

     Po Town doesn't look all that improved, but you're happy to receive the complement. You then smile and ask, "What's the occasion?"

     "Yeah, about that," he says slowly. "I...I'm sorry, cousin. I don't think I'll be able to make it to the grand opening of your reconstruction."

     Kukui continues, "I was thinking about what you said- and I've got my priorities all screwed up. My family should be the most important to me... With this injury, I decided that I really need to take a break," Looking away from you, he says softly, "Me and my wife, we made plans to go to Unova to visit her family... I've been putting it off for a while, but since I'm finally able to go on sabbatical, I'll be leaving soon."

     "Oh," you blink rapidly and force a smile on your face. "I'm happy for you. That's good- you should rest."

_I hoped my sincerity would reach you someday._

     You lick your lips and widen your affected smile. "Get well soon."

     "Thanks," he says, leaning on his crutch. "I have to get going... my wife's waiting for me outside... Keep up the good work!"

     Ever the observant girl, you ask, motioning to his cast, "Do you need help getting to the gate? Your limp's pretty bad..."

    "You'd do that? Thanks, cousin." Kukui puts his arm around you, and his eyes crinkle up as he smiles genuinely at you.

    After you help the older man to the gate of the town, his wife runs to him and says to you, "Thanks so much for helping my husband out. I told him that he should rest, but he insisted on coming..."

    "Aww, I had to come," he says, still smiling at you. "You're one of my best students!"

     You nod, but his bright smile's like looking into the sun, and you have to turn away. 

     It's foolish to hope on things that have passed, and it's self-indulgent to mourn the loss of something you never had to begin with, but-

     But just the sight of his back turned to you makes your chest hurt: like a blade's lodged deep inside and you have no idea how to get it out. 

     As you watch Professor Kukui and Burnet's departing figures smiling, hand in hand, you hate yourself a little more.

     Yes, you were a fool. 

     For thinking that your earnestness would someday reach him.

  

* * *

 

     That night, as you dream in your bed, a familiar voice calls out to you.

     "Where are you, honey?" your mother says. "Honey? It's all right..." She then puts her hands on her hips. "Oh, she's run off again..." your mother sighs. She then calls your name again, over and over.

     You hide behind a tree, and crouch down on your tiptoes. Concealing your head in your knees, you let out small, tiny sobs. Suddenly, a large shadow is cast over your smaller, hunched figure, and you look up to find out the identity of this giant. 

     Your father's kind face looks down at you. You turn away from him, embarrassed. 

     "Don't cry, sweetheart." Your father crouches down and wipes the tears off your face with the pad of his large thumb. "What's wrong?"

     You blink back hot and angry tears, and sniffle. You then rub your nose. "I lost a battle at the Viridian Trainers' school again. I'll never be a good Pokémon Trainer..."

     "Don't say that. All right," the older man says, and smiles kindly at you. He digs through his knapsack, searching for something. "Ah, here it is. As a present for your 18th birthday- my _secret weapon._ " He hands you a small book labeled  _Adventure Rules_  in crisp black marker across its top margin.

     You take the notebook from your father, unimpressed. "A book?"

     "Hey, now..." your father says, slightly put out by your lack of enthusiasm. "These are very important rules, okay? Make sure you don't forget them. They're my key to success!"

     You nod, and take the leather bound book from your father's hands gingerly, as if it were something precious. 

     He smiles. "Go on and read through it!"

    You flip through the book's pages, and your eyes fall upon one of the sayings scrawled on one of them. 

      _Don't forget to save!_

     You look up at your father, a puzzled expression on your face. "When you're just about to battle, it's important to make a record of your progress, so you can see how far you've come," he explains. "And if you don't do well, because you made that record, you can try again because now you know what you did wrong."

     "Oh... I like it a lot," you say, and your father beams, happy that you appreciated his gift. You ask the older man suddenly, "Dad?"

     "Hmm?"

     "I'm scared that I'll never find _somewhere I belong._ "

     "You're right in feeling a little worried-it's important that everyone has someplace where they feel like they belong, or someplace they can call home." he says, sitting down on the soft dirt next to you. 

     "You just haven't found that place yet- it'll happen someday, don't worry. Even if I'm not here to see it... But remember this," he says. "Your home is wherever you make it."

     Your father offers you a hand up. "Now wipe away those tears. You're an adult, you have to be strong!"

     You look away, "I don't know if I can be..."

     "Don't say that," he says, gently chiding you. "I have faith in you. Come on. Your mother is waiting for us- I bet she's made something tasty for dinner!"

     "Okay," you say, reaching out to take your father's hand-

      But what you take hold of is only air. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary of Hawaiian/Alolan Terms
> 
> *Hawaiian/Alolan Time: this term usually refers to people arriving later for an event, meeting or and occasion. Because of the warm weather and relaxed environment present on the islands, people tend to take their time when getting from place to place.


	7. El Dorado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All we are is what we try to get rid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thanks for bearing with me for this update- school's being a you-know-what in my rear, so my writing has fallen a little by the wayside. Enjoy the new chapter, hopefully the next one comes a bit quicker!
> 
> As always, your comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! In fact, the other day I saw I passed 100 kudoses, and I couldn't believe you guys! Thank you so, so much! （*´▽`*)
> 
> Also, a quick warning- certain characters may act a little unsympathetic in this chapter, but I promise I know what I'm doing! (a little bit, at least...?)

 

     One morning while you were on your Island Challenge, the sky had been rainy and dark, and it seemed like all of Alola was on the verge of tears. Gazing up at the sky, you run your watery eyes and sigh. Unfortunately for you, this morning's much like that one.

     You've rarely seen an entire region in a bad mood all at once before, and as you trudge to work in Po Town with more supplies you had gathered from home, you could only imagine the mood would be as equally dreary once you open the gates inside. 

     Taking in your progress on the town, you sigh with defeat, your shoulders slump dejectedly. Sure, the graffiti on the buildings had been cleaned up, but... the rest of the town wasn't much to look at. More of worn houses' paint were chipped and peeling, and their brick walls faded.  A broken window even hung still in one of the houses. The shrubs grew spindly and more monstrous, almost as if taunting your efforts.

     "...why did I even say I could get this done in a week," you sigh to yourself. You decide that moping isn't really going to help your present situation, so you get to work with replacing the broken window.

     At noon, you spot four figures standing at the gate of the town, the Veteran and the auburn haired woman(who you could now see was a Teacher) from yesterday's meeting, and a Rising Star, as well as Officer Nanu.

     The contrast between the City Council members and the Kahuna are startling. The three of them are decked out from head to toe in thick, protective rain coats, large and cumbersome umbrellas and squeaky rain boots. Nanu, however, still wore the same plain black Alolan police uniform, the jacket unbuttoned carelessly. His flip-flops show exactly what he thought of the weather: simply a nuisance.

     The City Council members waddle into Po Town, dressed defensively from head to toe. You think the sight's a little funny to look at: they're dressed so well against the elements, it's almost as if they were afraid that Po Town would rise up and attack them for some slight. 

     Nanu lifts his chin to acknowledge you and simply nods.

     The Rising Star steps forward out of the huddle of umbrellas. "We're here to inspect your progress on the town," the young man says. He and the other members of the council don't bother to greet you. 

    "Okay," you say. "I hope you'll be a little impressed with my work in the Pokémon Center!"

     "We'll see," From the skeptical look on his haughty face, it's hard to imagine the young man looking satisfied, much less impressed.

     You take them around the town and the Pokémon Center. Whispering furtively to themselves, they point out the various aspects and flaws of the buildings and greenery. You can only make out a couple of the words that they murmur to each other. "Hmm..."

     More hushed murmuring and secretive gesturing. Your ears pick up a young man's voice: "...great place to build condominiums! Think of all that money..."

     After they discuss the situation quietly amongst themselves, the Veteran who had shouted you down yesterday turns to you.

     "You've done a respectable job of cleaning up the town, Champion." the Veteran says, and gives you an insincere, plastered-on smile. From the cloyingly-sweet tone his voice has taken on, you're not getting the greatest feeling about this....

     "And..." he says, motioning to the auburn haired woman standing next to him to speak. Her smile lines grow wider with her pseudo-happy expression, however, her facial features don't move from their severely set positions. That same fake-plastic smile is also stuck on her face.

     She finishes the man's sentence with, "We've decided to approve your budget to pay for staff at the Pokémon Center!" The Teacher continues, "You'll be put in full charge of the oversight of the construction and rebuilding efforts here... We'll just have to receive approval from the rest of the City Council later today."

     Unable to shake that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach, you put on an affected smile. "Thank you so much! I can't wait to tell you about the plans I had for Po Town..."

     The three of them are curiously quiet... the woman then coughs, and then stammers, "Go on, go on."

     "If Po Town's going to be open to everyone, there's a lot of things that need to change." You gesture to the high wall surrounding the town. "First of all, I'd like to take down this wall. It's important that everyone's included in the town, so I was thinking about employing..."

     You catch sight of Nanu's face, and his lips are pressed together in a tight frown. As you continue to talk, you notice the grimace on the older man's face only growing deeper. You start to feel that something's wrong...

     "Spineless cowards," Nanu mutters. He turns to the three members of the City Council. "Too weak-willed to demand that pound of flesh from the girl in person, huh...?"

     You look at him. What was he talking about?

     An acerbic, sharp edge in his voice, Nanu snaps, "Why don't you just say what you need to say and stop getting her hopes up."

     The Teacher glares at the older man, but he just shrugs it off. Hesitantly, she turns to you, and says, "Well, um..." Her voice drops an octave. 

     "....the City Council has decided that it's best to keep the wall."

      _What?_ "Why?" you ask.

     "Don't worry yourself about it! You'll be in charge of the oversight of the construction efforts, but just leave the city planning and residents to us." the older Veteran stammers. "We're happy to take it from here," he says, and attempts to take the shovel from you.

     Your grip holds fast to the handle, not budging even an inch. "I want to know why you're keeping the wall up."

     The Rising Star steps forward, and from his cleanly pressed raincoat and name-brand slacks, you could see that he clearly came from a well-to-do family.

     "We were thinking about establishing a gated community here- it would definitely bring in a giant source of revenue!" the young man says. "It's so convenient, with the police station right there! Of course, we'd have to tear down all the buildings, but the citizens would definitely feel more safe... Don't you agree, Miss Champion?"

     "..." You then shake your head, and bite your lip. "No."

     "What'd you say?" the older Veteran asks you. 

     Breathing in slowly, you meet the Veteran's increasingly infuriated look with an audaciously defiant gaze of your own. "I said, no, I don't agree. And there's.." you repeat, "There's no way I'll agree to making this town into a gated community."

     "It's not whether you agree or not! If you don't comply, you won't get funding. And furthermore, we can't pass up on this opportunity! The potential for Po Town's greater than we thought possible!"

     "I'll never agree with those plans. Even if..." you look headlong at all of the group of people. "Even if I have to do this all by myself."

     Nanu now pulls you aside. "What're you doing, girl? Do you think you can honestly do this by yourself?"

     "What else can I do? How can you expect me to go along with their plans? They're using the town as a way to keep people out...!" you protest. "That's not what I wanted at all- and it isn't the way that I want to rebuild Po Town."

     "But this way will be best for everyone, Champion!" the Teacher insists. "With the money generated from the profits here, Ula'ula Island's various economies will benefit!" 

     "How can it be?" you retort. "Where will those people who used to live in Po Town stay?"

     "Oh, that's why you're upset? Those Team Skull vagabonds?" the Rising Star scoffs. "They have places to stay- just have them live in one of those shelters!"

     You don't know about that... the motel that you had seen Gladion living in seemed worn down, at BEST. And if he'd rather live there than go to a homeless shelter, then...

     You say, "That's not good enough!"

     "And why shouldn't it be? The people of Ula'ula fund those shelters with their tax dollars- those _thugs_ should be grateful they have a place to stay!" the Veteran argues. "That's what's good for them."

     "So you'd make them all homeless," you state flatly. 

     "They're not homeless- they're trespassers! They need to be arrested for breaking the law!" the young man says, and adjusts his umbrella to guard himself from the elements.

     Your hands ball up into fists. "If you do that, they'll just sit in a jail cell! Those people need some place to live too...you can't just do this! I won't let you," you say. "Everyone needs somewhere they belong."

     "...that's not our problem." the Rising Star scoffs, his emerald-green shirt still immaculately wrinkle-free despite the wind and rain. "If they won't do anything to contribute, why should we help them?"

     The Rising Star then turns to Nanu. "Kahuna Nanu, make her see reason! it'd be less work for the both of you."

     Nanu raises an eyebrow. "Highly doubt that, sonny. Rounding up all those folks sounds like a ton of hassle to me." You then look pleadingly at the older man, but he just shrugs. "But I can't really blame them. They're only looking out for their bottom line. Everyone is. It's human nature."

     "So-" hot, angry tears are welling up in your eyes. "So, it's okay for them to just demolish all these buildings? To just kick everyone out? You're okay with that?"

     "Doesn't matter whether or not _I'm_ fine with it." Ever nonplussed, Nanu reiterates, "What matters to me is the welfare of the folks on the island. And technically, these people are right. Those punks are breaking the law."

     "Please," you ask him, and you take his hands. "Please." He blinks, then shakes off your grip on his hands.

     "Don't go asking me favors like we're..." Nanu pauses. "We're not that close. You're forgetting that I'm the kahuna of this island, kid. My responsibility is to look after the folks here. If the proceeds from this place will go to helping folks from all over the island... Gonna have to side with these weak-willed folks."

     He gives you a self-depreciating half-smile. "Really terrible at my job, but hey. Gotta pretend best I can."

     "It... It'll raise the rent," you point out, in a last-ditch effort to appeal to his more self-interested nature. "If all of those rich people moved in..."

     "Hmph. They wouldn't dare..." he looks pointedly at the group of people.

     But another council member counters with, "Right! You think we'd put the _Kahuna_  himself out of a home? Of course he'd be able to live there for free!" the Teacher snaps. "It would be more peaceful for him, as well."

     You shake your head. "I can't believe you. How can you...?" you ask, that feeling of indignant anger welling up inside of you, threatening to overflow. "How can you do something like this? Don't you have..." your vision is blurring, you clench your fists tightly. "...any sense of compassion in you at all?"

_Some..._

_Some hero._

     "It's fine. I'm the Champion- I... I can do this all by myself, without any of your help." you say, and wince from overexerting your sore wrist. Nanu shakes his head and sighs.

     "...Nobody wants to hear about how you're the Champion and can do everything by yourself, girl. In that condition, you'll be done for if you attempt to push yourself too hard," he says. "It's not possible to save everyone, don't waste your life trying. Just the folks who want to be. Some of them are a mess."

    _"I_ was a mess when I first came to Alola," you retort. "And my friends and family never gave up on me. Why should I give up on them?"

     "Because you're being a fool," he fires back. "A prideful, brainless, hotheaded, self-sacrificing fool. And in my experience, fools get themselves killed."

     "I'll never give up," you stare him dead in the eye. "Never. So you can stop trying to persuade me. I'll definitely be there at that meeting later today."

     "And I won't let anyone get in my way. Not even you."

     Nanu meets your eyes with a cold, steely gaze of his own, and you realize that this is what he must have been like as 000, back when he worked for the International Police.

     "Like it or not, girl," he walks up to you and the two of you are close, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. Your heart hammers away in your chest, even though you tell yourself you're not scared, you're not afraid of him-  
  
     ...although, now that you think about it, Nanu was taller and much more intimidating when he could be bothered to stand up straight.

     He continues, maroon eyes boring down into your own, _"I'm_ the Kahuna of Ula'ula Island, not you. So whatever nonsense projects you want to conduct have to be run by _me_ first, or you're not gonna be doing anything. Got it?"

     Clenching your jaw stubbornly, you hiss with as much venom as you can muster, "Sure, _Kahuna_ Nanu." placing special emphasis on the word Kahuna, just for him. You couldn't believe it- you thought he wasn't so bad.

     A certain haughty and beautiful blonde woman comes to the forefront of your thoughts. 

     ...but you had been wrong about people before.

     "It's your funeral," he scoffs dismissively. "If you don't make it, I'll make sure your remains at least get back home."

     "Fine," you retort, and narrow your eyes at him. "You'll see- I can't be the only one who thinks this way. People'll come around."

 

* * *

 

     Later, as you and your Pokémon wrestle with an overgrown shrub that wouldn't comply with your pliers nor shovel, frustration mounts ever higher in your mind.

     The more and more you think about the words that Nanu had said to you earlier, the more that feeling of jealousy that had eaten away at your heart yesterday gives way to a larger feeling of indignant anger.

  _"You're being... a prideful, brainless, hotheaded, self-sacrificing fool."_

     Who did he think he was, anyway? He didn't _know_ you! 

     As you lug your equipment back to the Pokémon Center, you catch sight of Nanu sitting at a table near the café. His back is reclined against the chair, a thermos full of hot liquid and his tell-tale coffee-stained mug perched on the table in front of him.

     Speak of the devil.

     You sigh, close your eyes, and briefly contemplate ignoring the older man. However, those hopes are immediately dashed when his eyes meet yours, and you resign yourself to your fate. After walking over to the table where the older man sits, you stand in front of it awkwardly. 

     "Have a seat." he gestures to the chair in front of him. "Coffee's on the table if you want it."

     Fixing your back's posture to stiffly stand up straight, you say, "I can stand, thanks."

     "Relax, girl. It's a peace offering," he says, and drinks from his cup of coffee. Nanu then says, "If you try to do everything by yourself, you'll get burnt out. Even though those folks are insufferable... Let them help you."

     Pushing wayward hair out of your sweat-slicked face, you breathe in and try to calm down. You refuse to take the cup of coffee he extends out to you, and make yourself busy with rearrange the goods displayed on the cafe's shelves.

     "He...he didn't need any help," you say quietly. "Professor Kukui... he created the Pokémon League for the good of everyone in Alola. If he can do it, so can I."

     Only the sound of you rummaging through boxes of tea, dusty mugs and assorted foodstuffs fills the room. The older man then clicks his tongue sharply and shakes his head.

     "This again, huh? Honestly...." Hissing in a breath, Nanu says coldly, "Getting real tired of seeing you grovel at that man's altar, kid."

     You turn around. "What?" 

     "Look. Not for nothing, but the prof's human too. Like it or not, he had help establishing the Pokémon League," he says. "And from what I hear of it, you did a lot of his dirty work for him."

     "That's not true," you say defensively, that feeling of anger threatening to bubble up to the surface again. "You're wrong."

     Unmoved, Nanu raises his chin slightly to look down at you, and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Well, shoot. I'm not usually wrong about people, but if you're so sure, kid. Enlighten me." He then turns to you. "How am I wrong?"

     "You're wrong about Professor Kukui."

     He doesn't even blink. _Go on._

    "At least- at least Professor Kukui tried. At least he didn't just sit there and do nothing: he accomplished his dreams. The professor put some effort into trying to make Alola a better place for everyone," you say. You breathe in, then finish with:

     "But... you're a police officer, and you didn't do anything about Team Skull. Or the Aether Foundation. Even though you _had_ to have known about their research on Ultra Beasts!"

     After your sharp words, it's quiet again, but this time there's something a bit different about the silence. Like you've just dove underneath an invisible horizon, not knowing of the tension that bubbled just underneath the surface.

     Nanu finishes his cup of coffee and looks at you. "....never said I was great," he finally says. There's a regretful, almost somber tone to his words, and you immediately want to take back what you've said. However, the older man continues with:

     "But... if you think the prof doesn't have you do his dirty work for him," he says, that sad, so sad tone in his voice replaced by one with an acerbically bitter quality to it. "I'd have to give it to you, girl. You'd be either the most gullible person on the face of the Earth or the stupidest."

     "Prof didn't wanna be the Champion of the Pokémon League, even though he's clearly more powerful than any of the Kahunas in Alola, including me."

     You protest, "That's because he didn't want to be the Champion of his own league-"

     "Hmph. That's a bunch of bull and you know it," he retorts, cutting you off. "Wanna know something? You've probably already guessed it, but being the Champion is a huge drag. It sucks, for lack of a better term."  
  
     Nanu pours himself another cup of watery sludge from the thermos that you still aren't completely convinced is coffee. "It's work, work, work, 24/7." After taking a sip of his coffee-sewage, he says, "He's perfectly fine letting a kid do that, huh? Tell me, how's your social life, girl?"

     "What are you trying to say?"

     "Just saying it was real convenient for him," he looks pointedly at you. "Prof doesn't want to be the Champion, so after sending a bunch of kids on the island challenge, he convinces one with some talent of them to challenge the league and become the Champ," he continues.

      _That's..._

_That's not true!_

     "You're just a means to an end for him. Nothing against the guy. You saw it was the same with those folks in the City Council." He stands up and stares you down. "People who do things out of the goodness of their heart, with no ulterior motive whatsoever..."  
  
     "Those kinds of people don't exist in this world." Punctuating each of his words with a step, as he gradually gets closer to you, Nanu then says,

     "And neither _you_ ,

     nor _him_ ,

     or _anyone else_ ,

     are _any_ different."

     He finishes his sentence with, "You're a naïve fool if you think otherwise."

     Your anger finally reaching its boiling point, you ball up your hands into fists, and all you can see is red, and-

     You punch him in the face with your non-injured hand, and he stumbles back. Panting furiously, your hands still shake with anger. Nanu wipes his mouth, smearing blood from his nose across his face.

     After only a momentary period of silence, you see his shoulders begin to shake, and bob up and down.

     Is he laughing...? That guy's LAUGHING? Does he think this is funny?

     "....that's good, girl," Nanu chuckles hoarsely. He wheezes, then lets out a louder, raucous laugh. "That's... that's real good! I haven't been punched like that in... who knows how long. Think you may have broke my nose."

     Your voice still trembles with anger. "You're wrong."

     "You keep saying that, kid. Nothing's really proven otherwise to me," he says, dusting the dirt off of his uniform jacket.

     "You gave Plumeria a Z-Ring, didn't you?" You ask, remembering the one time she had challenged you at the Pokémon League. "She turned her life around, didn't she?"

     "Hmph. That was mostly that _other man's_ idea. There'll always be exceptions to the rule. And honestly...they have a point." he says. "If you put your faith in others without cause, you're gonna end up empty-handed."

     "The City Council said that they'd come to an official decision later today, didn't they? There's definitely... still hope," you say. "I'll drum up support for my plans before the hearing. It's fine."

     Nanu stands up from the table. His voice then answers yours, knife-like in its incisive, sharp edge. "Hope in one hand and crap in another. See which one gets filled up first."  

     You know that hope had gotten you where you are thus far, so you had no choice but to believe that someone would care like you did.

Meeting his eyesdefiantly, you stubbornly repeat, "I still have hope. Hope that Po Town can be a place where everyone can live together."

 

* * *

 

Not wanting to waste any time, you head to Malie City, in hopes of attempting to convincing at least some of the townspeople of the merits of the tiny, rain-soaked town. If a lot of people showed up at the meeting, then those jerks at the City Council (Nanu included) would have no choice but to see it from your point of view!

     Unfortunately, as you go from place to place wandering the cobblestoned streets of the city, you find that most people weren't interested in signing any kind of petition, much less come with you to a meeting where bureaucrats argued for hours on end about money and politics. 

      You briefly consider asking Acerola, Sophocles, and Molayne for help, but you quickly put the thought out of your mind.  You're the Champion, right? It shouldn't be too hard to get some people to sign a piece of paper, or come with you to a building that was only a stone's throw away from them...

      But even that was too much effort for most of the citizens of Ula'ula Island. 

      _Nanu fits right in here, huh. No wonder the Tapu chose him as the island kahuna._

      "I'm sorry, I am," a fishmonger tells you whilst dehusking the tails of freshly caught Barboach. He was nice enough to at least sign the petition you had in your knapsack. "But I don't imagine you'll have much luck convincing people of the greatness of that place. Folks 'round town haven't visited in years, and all Po Town's known for now is being a rundown shack filled with hooligans and troublemakers."

       You thank him, and stare down at the clipboard you're holding. You had only gotten a couple of signatures, and only a few people had said that they might come to show their support. You decide to head to the Community Center, and wait briefly before entering the conference room. When you had checked earlier that afternoon, the schedule had said that the meeting would be at 15:30.

       However, even as you wait and wait, nobody shows. But even if no one would show up, you could still attempt to argue Po Town's merits on your own.

       Looking into the conference room, you see the familiar group of people from yesterday talking animatedly amongst themselves.

        _Wait._ You check your RotomDex. The meeting's not supposed to start for another hour....

        _Have they...?_

       You enter the conference room again, however, this time with more resolve than the day before. A sea of eyes turn to look at you. Noticing that the seat next to Molayne and Acerola is unoccupied (Sophocles is curiously absent, probably due to some obligation at the Hokulani Observatory.), you take a seat next to the two of them.

     "Hi," you say. The people at the table shoot each other surprised glances. Their guilty, taken aback expressions are reminiscent of Deerling caught in a pair of headlights. They've already started talking without you....

     Singling you out almost immediately, a Beauty then demands, "Why's this woman here again?"

     "No, it's wonderful," the Veteran says, but the fake smile on his face tells you he's anything but. "If the Champion's here, surely she can offer us some insight!"

      _I'd like to give him some insight, all right..._

     "Actually, I came to tell you that I don't need your help," you say. "I can fund the staff at the Pokémon Center and fix up the town by myself."

     "Nonsense!" the Veteran smiles. "I believe that young girl, Acerola, informed us you were due to return to the Pokémon League tomorrow, correct? It would be a shame if your work were to go unfinished."

     "All right. Let's get back to the matter at hand," the Teacher declares, and the room full of chattering people quiets down. "Thank you. As all you all know, three members of the Malie City Council visited Po Town earlier this morning. We found that the town has great potential to bring in revenue for Ula'ula Island."

     A Lass asks, "Doesn't it always rain there? How would we market this to people?"

     "We would market the gated community as a peaceful, quiet getaway from the bustling tourist metropolis of Malie City- perfect for older, more well-endowed people, looking to retire," the Rising Star from earlier says. "Or wealthy expatriates who wish to find somewhere more affordable, but still glamorous to stay! Alola's becoming an expensive place to live..."

     The Teacher elaborates, "There are many merits to having a gated community! It's safer for the residents, and as long as the island owns the properties there. We can hike up rent prices which ensures more revenue for the Island." 

     Appreciative murmuring comes from the crowd of seated people. "What do you all think?"

     They chatter amongst themselves, discussing all manner of possibilities. You suddenly ask loudly, "What are you going to do about the people that are living there now?"

     A Beauty whispers to the Lass sitting next to her, "What's her authority, again?"

     "I believe they said she was the Champion..." her friend responds, clearly skeptical. 

     "The Champion has been rebuilding the town, all by herself," the Teacher says. "It's very admirable."

     "Those are just details," the Rising Star says to you. "We'll definitely offer some type of compensation to the people living there, and if not, we can find ways to make them go."

     "I hope you're not implying you'd break the law to get those folks to leave," Nanu warns. "You only get my cooperation if everything's aboveboard and legal." the young man then stutters and nods his head nervously. 

     "And I'm not exactly sure of how I feel about that, either." Molayne concurs. "It's a little immoral to just give them money or get someone to kick the people there out."

     "Captain, didn't you mention earlier  that the upkeep of the Hokulani Observatory increased from last year?" the Rising Star asks. "The money from this place would ensure that there is more funding available for all of the services on the island, including the Hokulani Observatory and the Aether House."

     "That's a good point," he admits.

     "Please. Just... give them a chance," you plead with them. "Everyone deserves a place to belong to. No one's ever given them that. And..."

     "Molayne, didn't you give an ex-Team Skull admin a Z-Ring?" you ask him. The blonde scratches the back of his head and smiles at you, a tad confused. "He has faith that people can turn their lives around. Isn't that right?"

     "Oh, that's right, but... I can't really take the credit! It was more of a joint effort." Molayne turns to Nanu. "Isn't that right, Kahuna Nanu?"

     He shrugs. "Guess you could say that."

     You feel like tearing your hair out. What's UP with these two? It's like they're playing hot potato with who came up with the idea to give Plumeria a Z-Ring in the first place!

     "An exception only proves the rule," the Teacher tuts. "And look at you...you're pale and worn down. We're more than happy to help you," she smiles. Honestly, you regret asking for their help in the first place. "How did you injure yourself, anyway?"

     The Veteran asks Nanu, "Do you know, Kahuna?"

     "Girl was caught in a scuffle with one of those folks."

     "See? Exactly our point," the Beauty says, filing down one of her nails. "Those _thugs_ are just unwanted extras- they're even violent towards upstanding citizens of our community."

     This time, Acerola objects. "Hey..." she puffs up her cheeks. "Just because there's a few bad apples doesn't mean we have to throw out the whole bushel! There must be some people at Team Skull who we can look out for!"

      The copper-haired Teacher says to Acerola in a saccharine-sweet tone, "No, of course not, dearie. But you would know that those people caused a lot of trouble for the island, wouldn't you? Those bad apples have done a lot of bad things to people here..."

     You glance over at Acerola's face to see the younger girl lost in thought. She must be remembering when Team Skull made off with the Yungoos from one of the children at the Aether House.

     She then shakes her head. "I don't know..."

     "Think about it..." the Rising Star says, now turning to you. "The money will go to the various places on the Island. It will be great for your friends,  as well as you! Leave all this messy business to us- you don't even have to be involved with the construction. And after the residents move in, you'll get to put your name on it, as well as take all the credit for rebuilding Po Town into a beautiful community."

     Is that what he thinks you want? Fame? Some _recognition?_ If he did, then he's got you all wrong!

     "I don't want..." Attempting to not to lose your temper again today, you breathe in and out, trying to survive. "...I don't want to put my name on anything that's going to keep people out," you say.

     "If you say so," the young man scoffs.  "What about you, Kahuna Nanu?"

     "Honestly, it doesn't matter to me either way," Nanu says. "As long as you folks don't anger our guardian by doing any foolish nonsense like building on sacred grounds, and stay out of my hair, you can do what you want with the place."

     Looking at Nanu's face now, you can see that your punch left a mark on the older man's face that was beginning to bruise, and find yourself hoping that the mark got even darker with time. You'll probably feel more guilty about the thought later, but for now all you can feel inside toward the man is a simmering, bitter disdain. 

     "If...you won't do it for the people who live there, do it for the people of Alola," you say quietly. "Po Town used to be a place where the locals all over Alola used to relax. Everyone appreciated it for what it was. If you make it into a gated community, only people with money will be able to go in."

      Nanu looks over at you. Amazingly enough, he doesn't look angry or upset at you, just tired. "Life isn't a positive-sum game, girl," he says, and you can hear a tinge of wistfulness in the older man's voice. "You need to decide what your priorities should be, and eliminate what isn't necessary." 

     You can't, won't agree. "How can you say that? How can-" you look at all of the people at the table. " _Any_ of you say that? How can people be considered unnecessary, or just extras? Is there really no place for everyone...?"

     "You should take the Kahuna's advice- he's right! And that place was just ordinary, before Team Skull took it over," the Lass argues. "Don't you see? We're going to make it so that there's a net benefit for everyone."

     The Teacher declares, "All right, then: Let's come to a vote," Motioning to a stack of papers on the table, she then says, "Write down your choice on the piece of paper, then we'll decide on what Po Town's ultimate fate should be."

      After tallying up all of the pieces of paper that had been collected from the City Council members and yourself, the Veteran from before stands up and gives the rest of his peers a self-satisfied smile.

 "I am happy to announce that the vote to demolish Po Town in favor of building a gated resort community was nearly unanimous," he announces. "You won't regret making this decision- let's all work together to make Ula'ula Island a better place for everyone-"

     Standing up out of your seat abruptly,  you blink back tears, then hurry out of the room.

 

* * *

 

     Outside the conference room, you cover your eyes with your arm, and try to fight back the waterworks that threaten to overwhelm you. Suddenly, the door to the conference room slams open. Startled, you look up to see  Acerola and Molayne, frantically looking around for someone. You don't really want to talk to them right now, but Acerola's keen eyes catch sight of you. 

     "Oh, there she is!" the young girl exclaims, and the two of them run over to meet you. After dashing over to catch up with you, Acerola pants, "Big sis... Please wait! I'm so, so sorry... Those numskulls are just huge jerks!"

     "You did all you could... It's all right," Molayne whispers to you, and awkwardly pats your back. "Maybe the community won't be as bad as we think. Let's go quietly somewhere else, and try to focus on other things for now."

 _It's not all right. How can it be?_ _They're... they're just going to sweep all the things they don't like under the rug!_

     "Go quietly, you've got to be kidding me," you jerk away from his hand, and narrow your eyes at the older man. The wounded look on Molayne's face makes you immediately regret your harsh words, but you're too hurt and frustrated to issue an apology right now.

     "Please don't be upset, big sis. No matter how strong you are, there has to be things even the Champion can't do," Acerola continues. "Like me! I know there are places I can't reach by myself and people I can't protect... so I just try my best! That's all you can do..."

     You don't want to accept that this is all you can do. Just as you're about to answer the younger girl back, your ears pick up the conversation of three Trainers exiting the conference room in the Community Center. 

     "Hey..." You turn and see the young Rising Star from before, accompanied by two fawning young women: a blonde-haired Beauty and a deeply tanned Lass.

     The Beauty giggles, "Will we be able to go to that gated community and resort after the construction is completed? I'd love to go to a spa or play some golf..." She mimicks swinging a golf club. You'd like to swing that club straight at her head.

     "It's not that kind of place," the Lass says. "But a _lomi-lomi_ massage sounds great, right about now! What a great stress-reliever, after doing all that hard work!"

     "We'll go as soon as we can," the Rising Star laughs flippantly. "But honestly, I don't know who'd even put up with that place besides dumb and gullible tourists, anyway. Po Town always rains, now..." the young man says dismissively.

     "It hasn't stopped raining there in years..!" a Lass scoffs. "No wonder nobody wants to bother with there anymore. If we can pick up some easy money from _haoles_ who want to live there, why not?"

     "Don't listen to them," Molayne says softly, but you can't tear your eyes away from the happy group of people.

     "And didn't you say that there would be more revenue available for everyone? Does the Champion just expect money to grow on trees?" the Beauty says.

     After checking his reflection in a compact mirror, the young man then nods his head in agreement. "Exactly! Can you believe that lady? It's not worth the bother! Honestly, some people should just stick to Pokémon battling-"

     Now THAT got you fuming mad. Despite Acerola and Molayne's protests, you have half a mind to storm over there and show those people _exactly_ what they could expect from you-

     However, the conference room door creaks open, and the tell-tale soft sound of Nanu's slippers resound against the clean floor of the hall. 

     "That's enough from you, boy. No need to rub it in," he says frostily. "Why don't you run on home before you embarrass yourself in front of your lady friends."

     At least that shut them up. 

     "Oh, Uncle Nanu!" Acerola exclaims, the unusually squeaky-high octave in her tone betraying the panic in her voice. She then lets go of your leg and runs to the older man, who had just come out of the conference room. "Big sis's looking really upset. Tell her it won't be so bad..."

    _Probably going to tell you he told you so._

     Not wanting to see that same self-satisfied, blasé expression on his face, you don't meet his gaze. Your hands ball up into fists, and you blink back tears. Walking briskly past the older man, and holding back tears, you choke out:

     "No. Don't you dare..." you pause, and bite your lower lip. "...don't you dare say anything to me."

     "Who'd even..." you laugh scornfully, and swallow the the lump forming in your throat. Your eyes are watering, and you cast your gaze downward at the floor. You can't, won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. "Who'd even bother with a place like that anyway... Right?"

     That place, that we could all return to, smiling, where things would be just like old times...

     ...doesn't exist.

 

* * *

   
     As you pack up the materials you used to clean up the town, your thoughts drift off here and there. Wiping your red, puffy eyes on your sleeve, you pull out that old book your father had given you, and flip through its pages which had yellowed with age.

     Dejectedly sitting down on the slick, rain soaked ground, you hang your head in frustration. This feeling's so familiar...

    _"Don't be like that, honey. Nobody became a Pokémon master overnight! Chin up," your father smiled at you. "All right, let's see the progress you made on that book I gave you." he flipped through the book of Adventure Rules, now a little more worn with the use you had given it._

_After nodding and smiling approvingly at the highlighting, dog-eared pages, and various notes you had scribbled in the margins, he flipped to two pages in the back of the book. Spread across both pages was a color map of what appeared to be an unfamiliar region in the world._

_"Do you know where this place is?" your father asked you. You shook your head._

_"This-" he pointed closer to a group of small islands on the map. "This is Alola. It's a tiny island nation very far away from Kanto- they have all types of wonderful Pokémon. It's a great place to be, and everyone lives in harmony with nature and Pokémon."_

_"It's just a bunch of tiny islands..." you said, and your father shaked his head._

_"You're not grasping the bigger picture, sweetheart. Sure, they might not look like much apart now, but together, they're stronger than you could have ever thought possible."_

_"The beauty of it is," he said slowly, "Some things can be larger than the sum of their parts. It's not just the separate aspects of a person or a place that define it."_

_"Listen to me go on... you're correct that Alola's not very impressive on this map! It's best to see the region in person- so I want to take you and your mother there someday."_

_"Someday? Why not now?"_

_"Because plane tickets to Alola are very expensive! But we'll go there someday, I promise." he laughed. "Together."_

_The older man crouched down to look you in the eyes and said, "But if something were to happen to me before we can go..." He then put his large, warm, comforting hand on your shoulder. "You have to be strong, all right? And take care of your mother for me."_

_You shook your head wildly. "No! Don't say things like that."_

_"Honey-"_

_"Please!" you begged, pulling at his worn jacket. "Swear you won't."_

_"All right, all right," your father chuckled. "I promise."_

_Unconvinced by your father's weak rebuttal, you raised an eyebrow. "You promise?"_

_He gave you a reassuring, wide smile. "I promise."_

But...

_The gravelly, deep voice of the funeral director said, "We are gathered here to celebrate the life of a humble man..."_

_Sobbing, you clenched the tiny paper book in your small, helpless hands. The pages where your father had written your Adventure Rules are crumpled up._  
  
     ...some promises are made to be broken.

     Back in the present, as you turn your head to look up at the dark, overcast sky overhead, wetness stings your eyes as you tightly shut them. You will the tears to stop coming, and attempt to swallow down the huge lump forming in the middle of your throat. Water droplets continue to fall on your face. You blink, confused. You thought that the tears had come from you...

     Looking up, the rain starts to surge down from the sky, like the clouds had held their sorrow in for all this time and couldn't help it anymore. And as the rain continues to cascade on the miserable, small you, you realize that this town is crying, too.

 

* * *

 

     A sneak peek of what's ahead:

     Plumeria narrows her eyes at the older man. "Giving me the Z-Ring was originally your plan. Molayne just agreed with you."

     "...why'd you _lie_ to her?"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawaiian/Alolan Glossary of Terms
> 
> haole: a usually derogatory term used to refer to a non-Hawaiian/Alolan foreigner, usually one of Caucasian descent 
> 
> lomi-lomi: a Hawaiian/Alolan massage. In the Hawaiian language, the word used traditionally, called lomi, means "to knead, to rub, or soothe; or to work in and out, reminiscent of a cat/Meowth's paw.


	8. Interlude 1: The Ballad of a Half-Empty Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That girl who burned and shone so brightly in such short a time, was not unlike a comet darting across the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys? Missed me? I missed you!
> 
> (o^ ^o)
> 
> Classes are finally over for me until the fall, so I'll try to get this all rolling again when it comes to posting consistent updates.
> 
> Thanks for all your love and patience, and let's get this show on the road! As always, any comments you have for me are more than welcome- I read all of them!

     Try as he may, that wretch can never escape from those endlessly sinking days. 

     With a start, a soft, persistent buzzing from his stopwatch awakens 000 from his restless slumber. He glances at the device, the neon-red LED display reads 5:15 A.M. The flimsy bed creaks as the older man gets up, he then rubs his dry, tired eyes. Still jetlagged from his flight to Kalos, he drags his feet across the floor of the rundown motel room.

     Turning his head to survey his surroundings, 000 takes in the sight of his accommodations. The faded wallpaper of the room has a distinct yellowed hue to it, and the paper's peeling at the corners. On a countertop near the only dresser sits a coffee pot filled with a dark, murky liquid.

     Drone-like in his movement, he walks slowly over to the coffeepot, and pours the viscous liquid into a faded mug. After taking a seat at the barely furnished table, 000 stares at his haggard, gaunt figure in the reflection of the coffee cup. 

      _Well, don't you look like crap._

     Deep frown lines crease his lean face, and brown-purplish bags form dark caverns underneath his eyes, only emphasizing their hollowness. Checking his hair then briefly in the reflection, he spots more patches of gray beginning to sprout from his head. 000 runs a hand through his hair restlessly and shrugs. Oh well. It couldn't be helped.

     He then takes a sip from the mug and grimaces. 000 then promptly empties its bitter, acrid contents down the sink.

      _Gotta give it to them, the International Police still goes dirt cheap when it comes to commodities...._

     Still reeling from the coffee's acidic aftertaste, he goes about checking his phone and spots a message left only 7 minutes ago.

      _GBM at 6:15. Don't be late, 000._

     Grumbling, he gathers his things, rubs his dry eyes one more time, and gets dressed. His uniform, a plain suit and tie, is pretty drab, and he hates how the collar pinches his neck. After fiddling with the button-down for a few minutes (in an attempt to make the suit more wearable) he heads to work.

      When he arrives at INTERPOL headquarters, he enters the building, and shows his identification to the security guard, who waves him through. 

     His head pounds, and 000 finds himself regretting not having more of the lousy motel coffee. 000 checks his watch again. 6:09. Well, at least he could get some of the tinned coffee from the vending machine.

     His canned coffee drink tumbles down with a clank from the machine, and 000 gulps it down in a hurry, oddly comforted by its familiar metallic and bitter, yet smooth taste.

     As he wonders what's gotten the higher-ups to call a general body meeting when it was barely light out, the sound of a young woman's voice interrupts 000's thoughts. "Hey, do you know where meeting room 454 is?"

     His eyes observe the girl's unusually bold and confident posture. Her arms are akimbo on her hips, and her head is ever-so-slightly tilted up to meet his gaze. 000 croaks groggily, "Room's down the hall. Meeting's gonna be in a couple minutes, though." He raises an eyebrow. "You can follow me, missy."

     As they make their way to the meeting room, their shoes softly click against the polished lanoleum floor, the only sound audible in the empty hallway. She makes several attempts to make small talk with him, but he either gives her one word answers or non-committal grunts.

     "Here it is," 000 says. Another agent then pulls the younger woman aside, and he's grateful to be left alone in silence as he takes his seat near the center of the room.

     The meeting room has a cold, distant, impersonal air to it, several other members of the International Police are gathered in the room as well. A pervasive feeling of lethargy hangs overhead, the same look of exhaustion and fatigue mirrored on each of his fellow agents' faces.

      _Huh. These guys aren't happy to be here this early either... Guess I'm not the only one._

     An older man adjusts his mic, the scratchy feedback from the device promptly grabbing the attention of all of the agents present in the room. 

     "Morning, agents."  
  
     "As you know, the UB problem in Alola is currently considered a great safety hazard. However, we're moving this matter to a higher priority- the risk of civilians being exposed to these monsters has become too high. Many of you will be placed in missions located in Alola to prepare you for this objective."

     "Consider new methods of drawing the monsters to the designated capture zones, not limited to simply battling- perhaps a lure would work. We've explored possibilities of using Pokémon for this purpose, but so far all attempts have been unsuccessful."

     "We will need everyone's undivided cooperation on this matter," he says, and straightens his tie. His superior then proceeds to give them briefings on the various terrains and customs of Alola, as well as tips for fitting in.  

     A nasty combination of jet lag and lack of sleep causes the world around him to spin and twirl around 000; he can hardly keep his head from dropping, let alone provide his full, undivided attention to his superior.

     Evidently 000 isn't the only one whose attention had waned- the man at the front of the room clears his throat sharply, snapping him back to reality.  "Also. This is our newest recruit- all of you meet 300ks." his superior states flatly. He thought that the announcement deserved a tad more fanfare, but honestly, it didn't really matter one way or the other to him. "She will be working under 000."

      _What a headache... so I'm stuck with the new kid, huh._

     "A woman?" he hears a fellow agent say next to him. "We haven't had a woman in the International Police for who knows how long..."

     The man looks at him suspiciously. "Did you know, 000? You're stuck with the rookie, after all."

     "Don't know why you think I'd know anything about it," he turns to his peer and shrugs. "Beats me." 000 then claps, but only because that's what he's supposed to do. 

     Somewhat defensively, his colleague answers back, "You're always privy to info that we don't have access to."

     "And whose fault is that," 000 retorts, and turns his attention back to the front of the room. "Not my fault you can't follow simple orders." The man grows quiet after that.

     After the meeting is over, he turns to leave the room, when the older man who had previously been giving the lecture stops him. His superior's uniform is crisply ironed and the lapel of his jet-black suit jacket decorated with several medals. 

     "000, your performance review is coming up this week, isn't it?"

     The older man attempts to conceal the worn hoarseness in his voice. "That's right, sir."

     "I have it on good authority that you're being considered for a promotion." the man says, his voice unchanged from its brusqueness despite the good news. "We heard about how you apprehended some of those Team Plasma stragglers in Unova."

     "If you keep your excellent work up, there's no doubt in my mind that you could be someday be promoted to Secretary General." his superior states. The older man then puts his hand on his shoulder, a unusual display of affection. "Take these Ultra Beasts for example. I'm sure you'll devise some way to catch these monsters. Don't let me down."

 

* * *

 

     A few days after the briefing, 000 receives his first mission in Alola. However, he wasn't looking much forward to it- especially that he had been helpfully informed that it was to be 300ks's first mission in the field as an INTERPOL agent.

      To put it bluntly, she was a pain in the ass. The girl asked too many questions and talked back to her superiors entirely too much for his comfort. Maybe that's why he was stuck with her.

     "All right, 300ks and 100kr, you're up..." 000 runs a hand through his faded salt and pepper hair. "Mission's in the case file on your desks. You'll be busting a Pokémon smuggling ring in Heahea City in the region of Alola, and working with the local authorities to stakeout the area of interest. I'll be stationed outside the target AOI as your backup. Takeoff's in 45."

     000 then narrows his eyes at 100kr. "You're lucky they're giving you a second chance, sonny. If it were up to me, you'd be out on your ass. Don't screw this up in front of the new girl."

     100kr nods, and says, "Yes, 000." The younger man then calls out to the girl to gather their things for the mission.  
  
     After preparing his own supplies, 000 figures that it wouldn't be too bad to get some shut-eye before boarding a bumpy helicopter ride, and closes his eyes.

    Unfortunately, he doesn't get much sleep- the sound of quiet whispering and mumbling keeps him conscious and still alert. Half-awake, 000 realizes that he is  overhearing 100kr and 300ks conversing.

     "I thought that the International Police were some big crime-fighting organization...." the girl says to him. Her tone of voice is disappointed. "We don't do much of that, do we? We can't really get involved with solving crimes- all we can do is help the locals..."

     "We can still do a lot of good," 100kr reminds her. "Many of the agents who   work under the International Police have been here over a decade- I don't doubt they have helped so many people!"

     "Speaking of... Your superior, 000, keeps calling me girl," 300ks says, confused. "I don't like it. I'm not as old as him, but he could at least call me by my code name more often..."

     "But... Why do you let him talk to you like that? It doesn't seem like he respects you."

      _Not like he has much of a choice in the matter,_ he thinks to himself. 

     He then hears 100kr say softly to the girl, "000's a strict man, but he means well, yes. He's one of the International Police's most competent agents... His case closure rate is among the highest I've ever seen."

     100kr continues, "A while ago, when I was with nary a friend, 000 provided me with much assistance. I have him to thank for the fact that I was admitted in the International Police in the first place."

     "Oh...okay," she whispers to him, and gives the older man (she must have assumed he was sleeping) a cheerful smile. "If you say that, then 000's not so bad."

     Their conversation turns to more frivolous topics, and 000 sighs. 

     "If you've got enough time to be chattering and gossiping away, the two of you should be done preparing for the mission," he says, sitting upright in his chair. He then looks over at them pointedly and raises an eyebrow. 100kr and 300ks shoot each other sheepish glances, then return to packing their things for the mission.

 

* * *

  
   
     Tick.

     Tock.

     Tick.

     Tock.

     000 checks his digital watch again. He checks it every 15 seconds on the dot.

      _The hell's got those two tied up? Should've radioed in 15 minutes ago...  
_

     He then waits. And waits. And waits. After a period of 15 minutes, 000 exhales impatiently, and closes his eyes.

      _Knew those half-hearted fools would screw something up. Enough of this...  
_

     000 leaves the safety of his vehicle, and stealthily slips out into the warmth of the Alolan sun. This region was still unfamiliar to him, and he might as well gather some intelligence about the perimeter of the building before just barging into the warehouse. Alola's very different from the climes he's used to, and the sunlight beats down on his pale, sallow face. 

     After swearing and cursing himself for not bringing sunscreen, he spots the   
warehouse far off in the distance. Picking up his pace, the only sound audible the quick tap-tap-tap of his impatient and wary footsteps.

     On his way to the building, he spots a snow cone stand out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't want to be spotted by the locals and give himself away- even as he was dressed in this ridiculous-looking Alolan shirt and wooden clogs. The fake  flowers hanging around his neck itch, and he almost wishes that he was back in his police uniform. 

     A young girl, no older than a toddler stands with her father walks by the establishment and pouts. They walk past the snow cone stand, and she crosses her arms across her chest. She stomps her feet in a huff, and petulantly puffs out her cheeks.

     "C'monnnnnn, Dad! You said...! You promised!" the girl cries, and shakes her peculiarly-colored violet locks of hair from side to side. 

     000 could never concentrate on how to enter the warehouse now with the girl's mind-numbing wailing. That crying's so irritating, he'd do anything to shut that kid up...

     He glances at the snow cone stand. That girl was crying because she couldn't get a damn treat? 000 lets out an exasperated groan and rubs his temples. Maybe if he just stood here and waited, her crying would stop _eventually_.

     Apparently not. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity underneath the awning of a nearby building, he glances at the concession stand again, and throws his head back impatiently.

     Shoot, what's gotten him feeling so sentimental? It's not like him to feel pity for a child...

      _Those two're turning you into a soft-hearted fool, 000._

     Cursing himself again all the while, he makes his way out of the shadows and heads to the front of the business, changing his gait to a casual amble. 

     "Alola, uncle!" the man behind the snow cone stand greets him cheerfully, his skin is a rich tawny color. He was undoubtably an Alola native. "Don't think I've seen you 'round these parts before! What can I getcha?"

     Uncle? Did he really look  _that_ old? 000 shrugs it off- a person who was so comfortable calling him that couldn't think he was too suspect, so that worked for him. "Here's money to pay for two snow cones." He hands a ¥500 bill to the vendor. "Don't worry about the change. I'll have a lemon ice. What flavor do you want, kid?"

     The girl says nothing, quiet now that he had made his appearance.

      _Guess I'm real scary, huh._

     "Oh, her favorite flavor is cherry*, haha!" Her father laughs and looks lovingly at his daughter. "You want cherry right, princess?"

     The young girl nods hesitantly, her small lips pressed together.

     The snow-cone man laughs, "Oookay, sirs! One cherry ice for the beautiful lady, and one lemon ice for this kind uncle, coming right up!"

     After he's done shaving the ice and pouring the treats with syrup, the man hands him two snow cones, one covered in a scarlet-red liquid, the other in a neon-yellow color. Nanu hands the young girl the snow cone, but her hands are wedged firmly against her sides.

     Her father glances down at the child, and nudges her slightly. "What do you say to the nice man, Acerola?"

     The young girl, evidently very frightened of his specter-like appearance, hides behind her father's pant leg. He almost barks out a laugh, but figures doing so would only frighten her further. After some prompting from the older man, she then takes the snow cone and mumbles, "Thank you, Uncle..."

     As he walks away from the father and his child, 000 can't help but smirk a little. Back turned to the two of them, the older man then says, "Hmph. No one asked me to. I don't need the gratitude." 

     He pauses in his tracks. "But, girl... don't give your old man a hard time."

     His objective of peace and quiet achieved, 000 then heads back into his hiding location near the warehouse, and hastily changes back into his uniform.

     While observing the patterns of the grunts patrolling the warehouse, 000 tastes a little of the snow cone, and grimaces- it's too sickly sweet for him. He didn't know why he bought this for himself, anyway- sweet things don't usually suit him well. He throws it in the trash. 

     After finding an opening between the guards' patrolling patterns, he softly sneaks into the warehouse through an overlooked side door.

    Upon entering the building, his eyes come upon a figure. As he realizes who it is, 000 exhales sharply and rubs his temples. The rookie was tied up against a support beam, her face bloodied and bruised.

      _How'd I know they'd gotten themselves into some kinda sticky situation?_

     The girl gives him a frightened look, and shakes her head furiously. He puts up a finger to his lips and shakes his head in return. _Quiet..._

     She nods her head and waits for him. 

      _With any luck, she'll stay put..._

     After quietly disposing of the man, 000 ungags 300ks. "Talk," he commands her. After being informed of the current situation, he sighs. 100kr and 300ks had split up, 100kr taking the lower level of the warehouse, 300ks taking the upper level of the warehouse, she was supposed to distract while 100kr collected intel on the grunts and assessed their threat level. However, 100kr hadn't reported back, and she was taken hostage after being too reckless with her Pokémon.

     300ks then loads her gun, and checks her belt. Her shoulders slump in disappointment. All of her pokéballs had been confiscated.

     As she begins to walk off, he grabs her arm. "Where do you think you're going, missy?" 000 asks, whirling her around to face him. "Can't just go down there guns blazing."

    She protests, "100kr is in danger, we have to do something-"

     He says curtly, "We won't be doing anything right now."

     Her eyebrows furrow. "Why not?"

     "Because you both have compromised the mission," he spits. "Read the case file? Remember the lines 'with backup' in the case file? You both can't follow simple instruction? We're going to have to regroup and wait for further instruction..."

     "We can't just wait here...! I'm going in there to help him," she says. 

     "Listen, girl. I don't know if you know this, but let me spell it out for you:  disobeying the orders of your direct superior is usually a fireable offense."

     "So."

     "This is no time for you be playing hero, girl."

     "I'm no hero!" She protests. Her voice now quiet, she says softly, "I radioed for backup more than an hour ago. 100kr and I came up with this plan together, because..."

     She breathes in. "The Alolan police aren't coming."

     "The hell not?"

     "They said that something else had come up, and no available units were available for backup," she then steps in front of him and doesn't budge. "I trust 100kr's judgment. Why can't you?" 

     "I don't have to justify myself to you," He narrows his eyes at the young woman. "Don't push your luck, rookie."

     "He..." her voice carries a slight tremor to it. Her hands then ball up into fists. 

     "100kr has so much faith in you, and you're just going to leave him out there?" the young woman asks him angrily. "He said so many great things about you, and you're going to leave him to die?"  
  
     Just as he's contemplating tasing the woman and dragging her unconscious body to headquarters, they hear the guttural, harsh sound of a man's voice.

    "Hey, where'd the hostage go?! Damn it, I TOLD you to keep a close eye on her! Damn Pokémon won't listen to me when she's around..." 

     "Boss didn't give us much in the way of weapons, either! Shit, this is bad..."

     Damn it, he'd forgotten about the Pokémon placed as patrols on the lower level of the warehouse. But... Huh. He notices that the Pokémon had shown an unnatural affinity to her... maybe that'd work?

     "Hey, missy. I didn't want to ask that of you unless you're ready, but it looks like we'll have no choice."

     "What is it?"

     "You'll act as a lure."

     "As bait?"

     "Something like that. If you draw their Pokémon's attention to you, we might have a chance. Listen to me," he says. "You'll be quieting those Pokémon down, and then we'll move in and save that half-hearted fool."

     "How?" she motions to her empty belt. "All of my pokéballs are gone."

     "You can figure it out. One of those guard Pokémon knows Hypnosis," he says. 000 then puts a hand on her shoulder. "If you can get that Pokémon to listen to you, we might have a chance. Chances are that it's been mistreated- so you've got a decent shot. But- don't do anything too reckless. Here's your chance to save someone's world. Got it?"

     She nods. "Okay."

     After a she leaves for her mission, there is a brief period of silence, then 100kr returns to the upper level of the warehouse. 

     He sighs with relief when he spots 000, and hurries over to the man silently. "000, thank heavens you're here... What's the plan?" 100kr asks him. "You know that the Alolan police aren't arriving for backup, yes?"     

     "I figured," he snorts. "We're going to move in after she quiets the Pokémon down, so they won't give away our position. The grunts inside aren't armed with any heavy weaponry, so we're lucky."

     "What's this? You're getting the Pokémon to fall asleep? How?"

     000 gives 100kr a wry smile. "Ask your junior partner."

     300ks returns to the upper level and gives them the go-ahead with a quick gesture of her fingers. They move in, and descend to the lower level, guns and Pokémon by their sides, and arrest the syndicate members.

     "All right, folks. You don't move, and we won't have a problem," he says in a low, clear voice. "Understood? Put your hands where we can see 'em."

     They meekly put down their poké balls and raise their hands above their heads. After pulling their hands behind their backs and handcuffing the people they had apprehended, he checks their faces. None of them matched the descriptions of the high-ranking executives they had been searching for.

     000 snorts, "Hmph... these kids're just grunts. The execs are probably hiding out somewhere else. Cowards."

     "But your plan worked!" she says happily to 000. "We did it!" she cheers, and grins at the two of them. "100kr, we all did it!"

     "Not without the cooperation of all of you," 000 says, and 300ks looks down a little guiltily at the ground. 

      Unaware of the argument that the two of them had just gotten into prior to his arrival, 100kr chimes in, "Yes! Yes, that's correct!" the younger man smiles gratefully at her. "We have succeeded, thanks to our diligent efforts!" 

     "Didn't the case file say that a lot of Pokémon were being kept in the basement? We should check on them..." she says to the two of them. "Don't you agree?"

     "Ah, well, we can take care of that," 100kr says to the younger woman, and 000 has the feeling that she won't like what she sees in the basement. "You should head back to the hotel to recover- I am sure you must be exhausted from your hard work."

     She raises both of her eyebrows in confusion. "We can all check on them together. Can't we?"

     "Wouldn't recommend that..." he warns her, but foolishly, she runs ahead anyways. There is a brief silence, then a high-pitched shriek echoes through the room in the basement. They run into the basement, and-

     000 closes his eyes, and counts to three. If he wills it to be so, he'll be somewhere else, and this scene before him will turn into an untruth. He opens his eyes, and he sees rows upon rows of Pokémon trapped in cages, many of their limbs are sawed off haphazardly. Their cries of pain and anguish from the injured and dying Pokémon ring in his ears.

     300ks looks down at one of the Pokémon in its cage, and her eyes widen. The Slowpoke's tail is cut off entirely, and the Pokémon lies on the ground, softly moaning in pain. She backs away slowly, horrified, then turns and vomits onto the ground.

     000 sighs. "Told you not to look..."  

     (However, he thinks that it's better she saw this now, so that the agent didn't get the wrong idea about the type of work they did.)

     "It's a ghastly sight," 100kr says, attempting to console the younger woman. "I regret that you had to witness that..."

     300ks wipes her mouth and blinks back tears.  "Don't they have any compassion in them at all?" she demands. "Those..." she covers her mouth with her hand in dismay. "...poor Pokémon."

     "Hmph. You'll learn that this world is a cruel place," he says, however, the sight of the pokémon is still seared into his mind. "It's a _dog-eat-dog_ world."

     "How can that be...?" she says quietly. "How could someone even think of doing something like that?"

     "Better that you don't understand, missy," 000 says, gazing into the eyes of an unknown Pokémon. "You'll learn to just put it out of your head."

     "But... _are they really so different than us_ , 000?" 100kr asks him. "Can we say that, truthfully?"

     "Don't think on things you can't understand," he reprimands the younger agent. "You'll drive yourself crazy that way. Come on. Should bag this evidence and get the crime scene processed before those incompetent fools that they call cops show up..."

     After wrapping up the crimson-red, bloody remains of the Slowpoke tails and Corsola stalks in evidence bags, the rest of the Alolan police force makes their way into the abandoned warehouse. The three of them must be some sight for the police officers of Alola, covered in blood and sweat and other distasteful bodily fluids.

     "Ah, we were so late..." a police officer sighs. He and his older partner stand by the three of the agents. He then says hurriedly, a dishonestly happy smile stretched across his face, "B-But of course the International Police has this all wrapped up! You guys didn't need our help at all, did you?"

     "Y-yes, that's right," 100kr laughs uneasily. 000, however, gives the police officer the most withering look he can muster. _No thanks to you, sonny._

     "Why didn't you come?" 300ks asks the younger of the two Alolan police officers. Her partner shoots her a look to silence her, and steps in front of 300ks.

     "What she means is," 100kr attempts to cut her off, and gives 000 a meaningful look, "is that help would have been much appreciated, however-"

     000 shakes his head at 100kr, and holds up his hand to silence him. "Nah. I wanna know the answer to this question too."

     "Well, the Aether Foundation had called in a missing Pokémon case, and Hano Grand Resort was just robbed by a bunch of thugs, so all of our resources were tied up taking care of those crimes..." the younger police officer scratches his head sheepishly.

      _Sounds like a bunch of excuses._ "We called in this stakeout more than a week ago. You'd do well to hire more police officers then," he says sharply to them.

     His older companion interjects hastily with, "It's not like we've been doing nothing- so many Pokémon are going missing all over Alola..." he shakes his head. "I don't know if we'll be able to find all of them."

     "It's all right, we'll find a way." 300ks then balls up her hands into determined fists. "And if we never give up, and work together, there's no way we can't succeed."

     "Maybe..." the older of the two Alolan police officers says, but the telltale downcast expression on his face said all 000 needed to know about what the younger man thought of that idea. "There's quite a lot, however..."

     "No-no-no, cease that kind of thinking, my friend," 100kr says, and puts a hand on the policeman's back. "She is correct! If we all work together, there is no ceiling to what we can all accomplish!"

     000 scoffs. "Your optimism is making me feel real old, kids. Tone it down a notch."

     "Okay, whatever you say." she smiles jauntily at him. 300ks looks over at 100kr, and whispers, "He believes it too." 100kr smiles a bit in response. 000 rolls his eyes and shoves his hands in his pockets. 

     An old woman with hunched over posture and baggy clothing then hurries over to them. She had apparently made her way past the cordoned off barricade and through the crowd of shocked townspeople. If it weren't for the fact that she was probably contaminating the crime scene, 000 thinks he'd actually be impressed with her determination.

     "Ma'am, this is a restricted area-" the younger policeman begins, but the old woman gives him a harsh look, and her ferret-like Pokémon runs into her arms. (He wasn't entirely sure of the Pokémon's name.) Lifting her Pokémon into the air, she then presses the Yungoos's face to her cheek and nuzzles it affectionately. 

     "Thank you, officers! Thank you so much for keeping the peace!" the old woman gratefully bows her head to the three of them. "What heroes you all are! Isn't that right, Yungoos?" Her Pokémon growls appreciatively at the older man. 

     She smiles widely at him, and his heart thuds in his chest. "...he's my hero, too."

     After the elderly Pokémon Trainer and the two Alolan police officers depart, the young woman turns to 100kr and 000 and hugs the both of them tightly. 100kr smiles bashfully at the younger woman and clears his throat, but 000 backs away.

     "Getting real close to crossing a line, 300ks," he snaps, brushing off the younger woman's embrace. "That kinda behavior's inappropriate." 

     "Sorry, 000. I was just happy..." she says, and smiles at him. "Because we really helped people today- this is so different than being a part of the rank-and-file in Johto! I'm still new at being an INTERPOL agent, but..."

     "I have a feeling that this is what I was meant to do."  
 

* * *

  
   
     Rubbing his eyes, Nanu gets up from his restless sleep on the couch. His slow, heavy footsteps drag against the floor of the empty police station, the older man's gait unchanged even a decade later.

     After he turns on the light at his desk, he spots a Meowth curled up on his pile of paperwork. Taking a seat at the table, he languidly pets the shiny fur of the Pokémon, and looks again into the still dark liquid inside his stained mug.

     The hazy vision of a naïve, foolish young woman asks him,  _"I trust 100kr's judgment. Why can't you?"_

     In his mind's eye, that Faller's dead figure lies on the ground, blood pooling at the sides of her hair. 

     His superior claps his hand on his back. _"I'm sure that you'll devise some way to catch those monsters. Don't let me down, 000."_

     Revulsed, Nanu jerks his shoulder away, but he knows no one is here beside him. A familiar feeling of self-loathing nestles itself in the pit of his stomach. 

     People who do things out of the goodness of their heart, with no ulterior motive whatsoever- those people don't exist. That's...

     ...right, isn't that it? Because you're the most selfish wretch of them all.

     A familiar-looking spirited young woman, that same fire alight in her eyes, snaps, "Don't you have any compassion in you at all?

     "I can't...can't believe you. Some hero."

     Laughing ruefully to himself, Nanu rests his elbows on the old desk, and holds his head in his hands. 

      _It's better that that girl doesn't get the wrong idea about you, huh?_

     That's right. Because he's countless times more worthless than the opinion you seem to have of him. How pitiful. He had a new name, a new life, a new start, and yet-

    _And yet you're repeating history again._

     Nothing's at all changed. Those days in the rearview mirror...

     Even though it's been a decade, he can never escape them. And that person who Nanu despised, who he thought he had left behind, cruelly, coldly stares back at him in the reflection of his coffee. 

     He still can't get a grip on himself in these petty, meaningless days. He's still...

     ...in the dark.

     He's still trapped inside of himself in this cold, dead world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes and Commentary:
> 
> In my head, Acerola is about 12-13 in Sun and Moon. So that'd make her about a toddler's (?) age a decade ago.
> 
> Also, Acerola means something like "Caribbean cherry" so I made her favorite flavor of snow cone cherry! I'm very original, I know.
> 
> Also, in real life, INTERPOL headquarters is located in France, and it doesn't seem like there's a base of operations in Alola- so I placed the International Police headquarters in Kalos.


	9. A Shot Heard Around the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running towards an ideal world thought unreachable, you trample underfoot the shackles of the leading role. And in the midst of a desolate, barren winter, that person discovered in themselves an invincible summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys- thanks for waiting for this update. I have some good news, and bad news. Good news is that I've finished mapping out the entire story! (confetti and jazz hands and what not)
> 
> Bad news is that I've started an accelerated program for my schooling, so I won't be able to update as much as I want to... the soonest I can update is every month or so. I hope you guys can be patient- know that I'm putting my all into this, and I want to make sure that every chapter is just as good or even better than the last.
> 
> Anyway, enough of me talking and rambling on- let's get to it!

     You can't...

     ...make sense of this world that you're living in anymore. 

     Nothing makes sense, but then again, had it ever?

     As you trudge through the muddy grass of Route 17, you feel a faint buzzing from your RotomDex. Professor Kukui's name is displayed clearly on the device's Caller ID.

     You don't want to answer. At all. How could you face him after the catastrophe that only occurred just a few hours ago? Ignoring him seems like the easier course of action, but you know that if you ignored him for long, your trusty RotomDex would _definitely_ have something to say about it. You sigh and wipe the moisture(sweat, tears, rain, who knew at this point?) from your brow.

     Quickly painting a fake-happy smile onto your face, you chirp, "Hi, Professor Kukui."

     "Alola, cousin!" He waves at the camera and grins. "How's my favorite student?" 

     That's the only person you'd _ever_ be to him. "I'm okay, how are you?"

     "Ah, I just reached Unova a couple of hours ago, so I'm pretty jetlagged..." he says, while adjusting his glasses which are positioned askew on his face. "The time difference must be crazy- it must be pretty late there in Alola, yeah?"

      "That's right," you say, and the two of you go on making small talk about his time in Unova, talking about the huge skyscrapers that pierced the sky and the bridges made of entirely concrete and how he had been told not once, not twice but-

     "They had to tell you _three times_ to put a shirt on?"

     "Ha-ha! Yeah, seems like Unovans take that 'no shoes, no shirt, no service' thing pretty seriously...."

     A period of time passes where it feels like he's just talking _at_ you, not _to_ you, and Kukui then raises his eyebrows. "What's up with your arm, cousin? It's all bandaged up."

     Hiding the offending body part behind your back, you smile and say, "It's nothing!"

     He smiles and puts his hands on his hips. Peering into the camera, Professor Kukui leans forward and says playfully, "C'mon, now... do you really think you're fooling me like that? I'm not a kid, champ. I understand what _object permanence_ is!"

     "I sprained my arm, it's not a big deal."I didn't want to say anything, because... I saw you..." you look away from the lens of the RotomDex guiltily. "lost your fight at the Battle Royale..."

     "Huh? Oh, that..." he says, and sighs. "Yeah, I bet that Masked Royal must be pretty upset about his loss." 

     "Sorry."

     The older man folds his deeply tanned arms across his chest. "Who are you apologizing to? Couldn't be me!" Kukui glances upward. "Cause he got careless and thought he could do everything.."

     "If things are hard for you, you know you can talk it out with me, right?" He says, and you nod. Kukui suddenly asks, "Speaking of, how's Po Town going?"

     Right. 

     You look down, and your brows furrow together, as you try to figure out what to say to him.

     Professor Kukui sighs and removes his glasses. "Look, that's about 5 seconds too long to come up with an honest answer."

     "Do you not want to talk to me? You've been pretty quiet this whole time."

     You're silent.

     Kukui begins, "You know, if anything's wrong..."

     Cutting him off mid-sentence, you say, "You can't. I can't ask that from you anymore."

     He scratches his head. "Huh? Why's that?"

     Your hands shake, and you burst out, "I'm happy for you!" you shout over the phone, and he is taken aback. "That- that's why..."

     Professor Kukui blinks once, twice, bewildered. "Happy for what? You're not making any sense, cousin... Breathe, yeah? In and out."

     "Don't you understand?" you shake your head. "Every time you ask...You're hurting me."

     Now _his_ brow furrows. "I'm...hurting you?"

     "Let's say there's two people, Person A and Person B. They're really good friends, but..."

     "If Person A loves Person B, but Person B already loves someone else... Every time Person B reaches out, it hurts Person A." you finish. "...that's why I can't talk to you anymore."

     "What? Now you're really confusing me, cuz." he scratches his temple. "What're you trying to say?"

     You blurt out, "I can't ask that from you anymore because I fell in love with you!"

     Kukui stops, tries to collect his thoughts. He then begins, "M-Maybe we can talk this out, yeah?" you can see he is reaching, fumbling for words that haven't yet taken form in his mind. "I still want to be there for you- to be your friend-"

     "You can't," you choke out, and from the widening of his mahogany-brown eyes, you can tell that he sees that you're crying. "Don't you understand? For me, that person can't be you."

     "Thank you, for all that you've done for me," you manage to say. "Please don't call... this number ever again."

     His mouth agape, Kukui objects almost immediately. "What? You can't be _serious!_ Okay, now I'm concerned... What's going on?"

     "NO! Don't ask. Please. Don't call, don't write..." you say, breathing in and out, as you try to survive. "Don't do any of that, because... Because-"

     You want to say anything that will make him go away, chase him away so that he'll never talk to you again. 

     "Because I hate you."

     Professor Kukui's normally cheerful and easygoing face contorts into a pained expression. He looks like he's been stabbed straight through the heart.

     "You... you don't mean that."

     "I-I do." you willfully insist, and to twist the blade in deeper, you add, "More... more than anyone else."

     Voice cracking, you lick your dry lips and continue, "You... you wouldn't talk to someone who hated you, right?"

     "But I know that's not true..."

     As if dragging every insincere word out of your mouth and throwing them out carelessly would make them anymore honest, you bite out, "It is true. I hate you more than a-anyone else in the world. So, go."

     Professor Kukui's silent for a moment, then he says, "Is that what you want? Really and truthfully, cousin?"

     "I-If you don't hang up, I'm going to," you say, tears well up in your eyes, and you cast your gaze downward as to not meet his disarming, honest gaze. "Take care of yourself. Bye."

     -click-

* * *

 

      For the first time in your life, you feel completely and totally alone.

 

* * *

 

     The road to your house seems like it's taking forever, and your legs feel like lead plates, weighing you down with every single step.

     From one of your pockets, Rotom buzzes softly, "Partner..."

     The tears running down your face and into your eyes sting them, you bite down on your lip so hard that it draws blood, willing yourself to ignore your Pokémon's incessant buzzing and whirring.

     "You shouldn't have said that to Professor Kukui! Imagine how he must feel...." Fed up with your obstinate silence, your Pokémon then says, "I'm going to call him back-"

     "No, wait-" you grab at your device, in an attempt to stop its rapid dialing. "What are you doing, Rotom?!"

     "Calling the Professor back zzzzo you can apologize, kiddo! He's probably zzo hurt by what you zzaid."

     "G-good."

     "?!" Your device lets out a confused screech. "What did you zzzay?"

     "I said, good. I... I don't need him. I don't need anyone."

     Even as the words come out of your mouth, you aren't sure you like the bitter, resentful person you're becoming.

     "Why is that good...? Don't tell me that you meant that! You _couldn't_ have meant that!"

     You yell, "You're so annoying!"

     "Didn't you _hear_ me? I said I don't need you! The Champion doesn't need anyone, right?! She's so talented that she can save the world and solve everyone's problems by herself, without...without anyone asking her if she's all right or needs help!"

     "Partner..."

     "Can't you just be quiet?!" you snap. "I... I want to be left alone."

     Abruptly, Your device falls silent, then drops to the grassy ground. You run to the place where your RotomDex had fell, and see that the display has replaced by a pitch-black, dull, motionless screen.  

     You wipe your eyes. "I'm not going to cry."

     Picking up one foot after another, mindlessly and miserably, you then trudge all the way back home.

 

* * *

 

     After collapsing in your bed and sleeping for what seems to be a few millennia, the high pitched whistle of a tea kettle awakens you with a start. Unable to sleep with the shrill whistling of the tea kettle echoing throughout your small home, you sit cross-legged on your bed, and close your eyes tightly.

     Nanu's sharp, incisive words cut into you again. "Life isn't... a positive-sum game."

     Was that true? Even for...you, too?

     Your mother's soft and heavy footsteps alert you to her presence, and you gather yourself together. "Hey, look who's awake!" Your mother says, an empty basket of clothes in one hand, tea mug in the other. She chirps, "You know, I was so worried about you... You came home in the dead of night, and I didn't get a phone call, or a text or anything..."

     "Oh look at me, rambling on," your mother sighs, and hands you a mug of fragrant, steaming hot liquid. "Here's some tea I made for you."

     You take it in your hands and blow off the steam wafting from its contents, and take a sip. After drinking about half, you stand up from your bed.

     Concerned, your mother asks, "You're preparing to go already?" You nod and begin to change clothes.

     "Do you have to go so quickly?" your mother asks, now balancing her basket of clothes on her hip. "It feels like only yesterday that you returned home... Can't you stay a little while longer?"

     Actually, it _was_ only yesterday, but you doubted Hala could keep the swarms of angry Pokémon trainers back for long.

     You nod and attempt to walk, but the ground wobbles underneath your feet.

     Your mother blows up a tuft of her hair, and exhales. "You're in no condition to be going anywhere..."

     Even amidst your protests of ' _What about the Pokemon League, I'm the Champion, no, it's all right',_ your mother shakes her head. "They can wait a few minutes." she says firmly. "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

     Your worries flood out of you like a river, and your mother smooths your hair and pats you on the back. "Oh, honey..."

     "Mom, they wanted to build condos there, and kick everyone out..." you continue, and sigh. "I know that Team Skull did some terrible things, but..."

     "But...!"

     "I get it, honey."

     "It's okay, I'm fine." You shake your head. "It's... not a big deal."

     Perhaps a contraindication to your words, you then drop the cup holding the tea your mother had poured for you, and scramble to the floor in an attempt to catch it. But... it breaks before you can do anything about it. 

     You mother says, "Oh, honey, don't bother-"

     "No, I can still fix it," you say, and in your attempt to put the pieces of the mug back together, you cut yourself on a piece of porcelain. Crimson-red drops of blood spring forth from your fingertips. Just the sight of the mug all in pieces drives you to tears, and you begin to sob on the cold, wooden floor. 

     "Why can't I do anything right?!"

     "I saved the world for the people of Alola, but-" 

     Despondent, you choke out, "But I just ended up ruining someone else's world instead."

     "I just thought that if I could do this for everyone, that..." you continue, "That I could bring everyone together again, if I made the town the same way it was before."

     "Somehow, I just thought..."

     "That if I was able to do that for everyone, then..." you choke out the words. "Then I could bring everyone together, and they would all be happy. I'm...I'm some Champion, huh?"

      _Some hero._

     "Why..." your mother mutters, then her eyes flash and she snaps, "...are you talking about my daughter that way?!"

     "Mom-"

     She retorts, "Don't you 'Mom' me..." Kneeling down to meet your hunched-over and small frame, she says softly, "My daughter is an amazing young woman who has her entire life ahead of her..." 

     You shut your eyes tightly. "There's nothing amazing about me."

     "Listen to me, honey. The world as those people knew it..." She gingerly cradles the shards of broken porcelain in the palm of her hand and holds them out to show you. "It broke like this mug. And everyone here's trying to put it together the way that it was before, but it can't come together in the same way."

     She mimes putting the mug shards back together. "Even if the pieces still fit together, you can't make the cup whole again. It'll still have cracks where the pieces were stuck together. Do you understand?"

     "But... that doesn't mean you can just leave the pieces there on the floor..."

     Your mother nods. "That's right- people will cut themselves on the shards." Closing her eyes, she then says, "But maybe... there's some value in making something new." 

     Gathering up the clothes that had accumulated in the floor of your room, your mother then stands up with her basket in hand. "Think about it."

     "Mom," you call out, not sure if she can hear you. "What do do you do when you can't do nothing, but there's nothing you can do?"

     "You do what you can," she says. "Even when all of your hope is gone... You keep your head up high. And never give up."

     Your mother lets out the breath she had been holding. "If you really have to go, honey, you can give Kahuna Hala and the rest of the Elite Four some _malasada_ ," your mother says as she walks out of your room. "You all work too hard, and need something to keep your strength up." Your eyes widen, alarmed. She still remembered that? 

     "What? I hope you didn't forget about those _malasada_ that I said I'd make you taste-test," your mother calls from the stairwell, and you groan. However, you're a little glad for a brief return to the normalcy that the stability of your family offers.

 

* * *

 

     "Child, your mother will not stop until both my grandson and I are one foot in the grave, will she?" Hala asks you as you stand in front of the older man nervously in his room at the Pokémon League. He then sighs. "She knows I have been trying to cut down on my sugar intake..."

      "Sorry, but she wouldn't let me leave the house without taking these..." you say apologetically, and hold out the basket. "If it helps, it's for all of us, and not just you..." 

     After all of the Elite Four members have taken their fill of your moher's pastries, Acerola approaches you uncharacteristically timidly.

     "Are you okay?" the younger girl asks quietly, and you nod. "Really-really?"

     You sniff, and wipe your eyes. "Yeah, I was a little upset yesterday, that's all..."

     Acerola hugs your knees tightly. "Oh, I definitely had some words with Uncle Nanu- I've _told_ that numskull before that he's not supposed to make girls cry!" You laugh a little, and wonder what had prompted the younger girl to give that piece of unsolicited advice to Nanu before.

     "Are you truly ready?" Hala then asks you, brushing some granulated sugar off of his facial hair. "Child, if you aren't prepared to battle, then..."

     You shake your head and get up. "I'm the Champion. If I can't battle, then what good am I?"

     After dealing with the buildup of frustrated Pokémon trainers and soundly trouncing every last one of them, you head out of the Pokémon League's main stadium to catch your breath.

     People murmur, "Look, it's the Champion!"

     A man cheers, "What a winning streak! This is her 23rd fight in a row!"

     A older woman's voice yells, "She's such a talented Pokémon trainer!"

     In agreement, a Rising Star nods and says, "That's our Champion! She's unstoppable!"

     A young man's carelessly cruel words resound in your mind, and he sneers, "She should just stick to Pokémon battling."

     Thinking on those people's words now, just made you hurt and angry and frustrated and all twisted up inside.

     A man asks you, _"Why even bother with the Island Challenge?"_

     You still didn't have an answer to that, did you?

     Guzma's taunting voice continues:  _"What's the point of it?"_

     "That's what I'm..." your voice grows to a weak, wavering whisper. "...still trying to find out." 

     Doing things just for the sake of doing them...if that's all there there was to life, then you'd rather be someone else entirely.

     When there is a brief lull in the influx of overeager Pokémon trainers, you take a seat at the cafe in the League's Pokémon Center and order a Tapu Cocoa.

     It occurs to you that contained in the swirls in this mug of Tapu Cocoa, exists several different universes, so vast that it reminded you of being in Ultra Space. In those different universes, you wondered...

     If you, that girl, were in the same place, in the same time that the you were in right now.

     You wonder if she also fell in love with that person, too. 

     You wonder if that girl was the Champion.

     You wonder if she was happy.

     Snapping you out of your thought about hypothetical yous existing in different, parallel universes, near the entrance of the Pokémon League, you hear a commotion amongst the crowd. You force your way through the mass of people.

     A man, dressed in dirty work pants and a stained white shirt, pushes the younger boy and sneers at him. "You won't fight back, huh?" Gladion's silent, his arms are folded across his body. 

     "Why not?" a woman jeers from the crowd.

     Another man's voice adds, "Yeah! Isn't that the only thing you know how to do?"

      _She should just stick to Pokémon battling._

    The chorus of voices shriek, "Come on, fight back!" 

      _Because that's the only thing that she knows how to do._

    "Fight BACK-" the man shouts, enraged, and swings down on the boy's head-

     Until you suddenly grab his hand and narrow your eyes at the young man. He turns his head to you and hisses, "What're you doing?!" he motions to Gladion. "Can't you see what I'm in the middle of?"

     You glare at him from underneath the arm you had caught mid-strike. "I can see."

     Evidently the leader of the group, the man demands, "Why are you defending him? That boy... his gang ruined our business!"

     His chin tucked so far inside the high collar of his jacket you fear his oversized clothing will swallow him up, Gladion mutters, "He's right."

     "I...deserve it."

     The man jerks his head over at the younger boy. "See? Even _he_ agrees!"

     You inhale, then say, "Because..."

    A man smiles at you, and offers you a hand up.

     "Because if you cling onto the past, you can never move forward."

     You shake your head, dust yourself off, and stand up.

     And in that moment, that girl found her 'answer'.

     "Hurting him won't..." you breathe in, and let go of the man's arm. "...won't bring your business back. It won't put things back the way they were."

     "And because...it's the right thing to do. That's why."

     The man blinks, then yanks his arm far, far away from your person, slightly terrified. "H-Humph. You aren't even worth it anyway, kid," he spits, and calls his friends in the crowd to leave. The huddled mass of people dissipates, and Gladion walks past you, sullen and quiet. He turns to you, about to say something, then shakes his head, clenches his fists, and runs inside the entrance to challenge the Elite Four. 

     At a loss for words, you simply let the young man walk past you, and hang your head.

     Draining your cup of its milky, lukewarm and too-sweet contents, you then head into the Champion's room. However, that insecure, wavering young boy is there, waiting for you. Seeing him there, you prepare for battle.

     Underneath the blazing-hot stadium lights, your heart pounds in anticipation. Amidst the wildly cheering crowd, you meet the quiet determination of a downtrodden boy's eyes. He has found his answer, too, hasn't he?

     You realize what you must do, and that answer becomes so clear in your mind now.

     You won't be a footnote in your own story.

 

     Smiling now, you close your eyes, and....

     

     

     

     ...throw the match.

 

* * *

 

     The silent ambience of the refined Sushi High Roller surrounds a older man, clad all in black and red.

     As he sits at a stool near the sushi bar, Officer Nanu's thoughts are his only company. Wordlessly, his eyes watch the chef's cleaver swing down mercilessly on an unfortunate fish Pokémon, and cherry-ice red blood is streaked across the man's cold blade.

     As Nanu lifts up a piece of _sashimi_ to his mouth, his ears pick up the conversation of the patrons sitting adjacent to him at the bar.

     "Did you hear...?" a young woman whispers in a hushed tone. "The Champion lost her title..."

     "Really? Didn't she defend her title so many times?" her date asks.

     The younger woman nods, her earrings jingle as she moves her head animatedly. "Yes! She lost against that blonde Team Skull kid, what was his name..."

     "Gladion?! Wow! Really?" A scandalous look of shock crosses the young, well-dressed man's face. "Wasn't he that runaway? Who knew he'd ever turn out to be anybody?"

      _People who do things out of the goodness of their hearts, without any ulterior motive...those people don't exist in this world._

     His eyes trace the path of the fish Pokémon swimming inside the tank, blissfully unaware of their fate. Reflected in the clear glass of the aquarium, a vision of a young woman's chin lifted up defiantly, eyes flashing is brought to the forefront of his mind. 

_You're wrong._

     Like the vastness of the sky reflected on the water's surface, your eyes gaze into his with startling clarity.

     Nanu chuckles as he thinks on it, and pours himself an additional shot of liquor. Sake burns his throat as he downs another shot of the milky white liquid,  which slowly trickles down the back of his mouth. 

      _Trying to prove me wrong...? Is that your answer for me, girl?_

He should have known that an dismal, boring ending you left him with was still a ways off, anyway.

     A  _yukata_ -clad waiter then approaches his table and says with a bow of his head, "Master Nanu, would you like some dessert?"

      _If that's the case, then..._

     After a short period of quiet deliberation, he abruptly gets up with a start. The lacquered wood of the chair scrapes against the polished marble floor. 

     "Nah, I'll pass... Got somewhere to be."

     At that very moment, in that cold, dead world, that wretch began to feel the warmth of a small fire burning.

 

* * *

 

      The uproar of the crowd dies down, and you make your way back to the Champion's room to gather and pack your things.

     The door slams open with a sharp _bang_ , and Gladion demands, "What are you DOING?!"

     You say simply without looking up at him, "You won."

     Panic stricken at this revelation, he hastily sputters in protest, "No! N-no, I didn't." Gladion then continues, "We're going to have a rematch, and you're-you're going to win, just like you always do!"

     Still smiling, you stand up, look him in the eyes, and say, "Okay."

     Frantically gesturing with his hands, Gladion exclaims, "Why are you still smiling?! L-look more upset!"

     "Why should I be upset? You won fair and square." Raising your eyebrow, you then interrupt him with, "Didn't you _want_ to be Champion?"

     His face falls. "Yeah."

     "Didn't you work hard?"

     Gladion now grows completely silent. 

     "So...if you keep protesting, people aren't going to think you want the title anymore," you point out. "You did it- you and Silvally, together." Patting him on the back, you then say, "Good luck, Champion Gladion! Make everyone know how strong you really are."

     After your brief exchange, you sling your bag over your shoulder and walk towards the exit. However, the voice of a now-confident young man shouts:

     "I...!"

     "I...still haven't forgotten about that rematch you promised," Gladion calls after you. "I'll never forget. You promised," he repeats, the young man's voice echoes off the halls of the champion's room. You halt momentarily, and exhale out. 

     Smiling privately to yourself with tears in your eyes, you then continue walking and shut the door behind you.

 

* * *

 

     As Officer Nanu makes his way back to the Po Town Police Station, the front of an electronics store catches his eye. His interest piqued, he then pauses in front of it, television displays are set out in the storefront. Like peering into a bizarrely attractive kaleidoscope, the multitude of LED TV screens display your face, a wide, genuine smile is spread across it.

     A newscaster with immaculately curled hair and a perfectly made-up face elaborates, "In an unexpected victory, Pokemon Trainer Gladion wins the Alola Pokémon League Championships against Pokémon Trainer..."

     Amidst the clashing scents of the multitude of people now gathered in front of the store, his ears pick up the murmurs and whisper-whisper of the townspeople.

     A man whistles in amazement, "Wow, I've never seen anyone so happy to have lost..."

     "I..." The creaky and scratchy sound of an elderly woman's voice then draws his attention, and he turns his head to listen in on the source of the noise. "I suppose... those Team Skull guys aren't so bad after all, huh?" Tearing his eyes away from the mosaic of TV screens to the source of the voice, Nanu then locks eyes with the old landlady he had almost carted to jail. She looks away from him guiltily and fidgets with the patchwork of her skirt.

     Gazing at you with fascination, even amusement, he wonders....

     The young woman now smiling on the LED display- how can it be that she is still _brilliantly shining_ , even now?

      "We in fact got ahold of the former Champion just after her loss to Pokémon Trainer Gladion," the reporter says. His eyes unmoving from the television, he watches the interviewer proceed with her interrogation with you, about mostly petty, unimportant topics. Then the older woman asks:

     "Now that you've lost the Alolan Pokémon Championship, what are your future plans?"

     "There's something that I can't leave unfinished," you then say.

     The oblivious newscaster immediately asks her, "Which would be? We're all curious to know what the first Champion of Alola is going to be up to... Pokémon breeding? Traveling the world? Starting a blog?"

     With bated breath, he watches the lips of an foolhardy, strong-willed young woman temporarily cease movement.

     And the needle on the clock that had stopped for so long in his world....

     She grins, and says, "I want to rebuild Po Town into a place where everyone can smile."

     ...began to tick again with the  discharging of your weapon. 

     "My loss made me think about how I've gotten here..." she says, slowly, deliberately. "Life's not a zero-sum game. If we all work together, then there's nothing that we can't accomplish."

     "Right now, they're going to repurpose the wall in front of the town so that they can build a gated community there." the young woman shakes her head. "But I know...I know that's not everyone wants! Alola should be a region of opportunities- wherever you start, no matter who you are, you should be able to make it. But it's not like that now..."

     Flabbergasted, the reporter immediately responds with, "But t-that's how it's always been in Alola for more than a decade now..."

     She fires back, "That's not how it should be!"

     Like a gunshot, your unwavering and honest words have impaled through his heart and pierced right through this rotten, damn, short-lived world.

     "Sorry, but I'm not asking for much- but just to lend me your support! Everyone, please, so..." that woman, undefeated by the rain, stares directly into the lens of the camera. "...the world that I couldn't reach on my own can become possible."

     In this gray and barren space, he dreamt of a world at its limits, just out of his reach. And that world that he thought to be non-existent, unreachable... somehow, you have brought it within his grasp.

     "U-um, that's all we have time for today," the older woman says hastily, and thanks you for your thoughts. Turning to the camera, she says sheepishly, "Isn't that something? What an outspoken young woman..."

     Nanu chuckles as he thinks on it, and a laugh bubbles up from his throat. Seized by a fit of laughter or perhaps temporary insanity, the older man then laughs.

     And laughs.

     And laughs until he thinks he'll run out of breath. He can't stop himself from laughing, it's just too...

    _That's just too funny...!_

     ....

      _...kid, what am I gonna do with you?_

     "If that town and those folks are worth coming this far..." he grins, the wild gleam in his eyes reflects back at him from the clear glass of the storefront. "You'll put on a good show for me, right? Make this worth my while?"

     As he picks up his cellphone, his fingers move in a trance, stopping at the name of a woman whose sharp eyes and vividly colored bandana now came to mind. 

     After a brief pause, the click of a receiver resounds, and Plumeria's deep and rough voice answers warily, "What's up, old dude?"

     A sly smirk creeps onto Nanu's face. "Hey there, missy... I need to call in a favor. Meet me at the PT station in 15. Don't be late."

    Turning his attention back onto the smiling woman on the cathode-ray tube, he says, "Girl, you better make this worth my while... Don't let me down."

     The irony of his statement is not lost on him, and he lets out one last laugh for good measure.

 

 


	10. The War of Proxies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they await the return of a girl, undefeated by the rain, two men must make some difficult decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! 
> 
> First of all- holy crap! Thank you guys so much for 250+ kudos and over 100 comments (maybe some of those are mine but WHATEVER MAN)- I appreciate all the love and support that you guys have been showing this story, and it gives me more motivation to keep on keepin' on. I'm trying to pull some strings to have one of my artist friends draw a little something something as thanks, so we'll see how that goes!
> 
> This is a really, really, really quick update- I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long, so I'm posting this now. This chapter and the next were originally supposed to be only one chapter, but I split it up into two because it was turning out to be way too long.
> 
> Hope you enjoy- comments and feedback is always welcome!

     As it turns out, ex-cons tend to be really bad at keeping track of time.

     Who knew.

     To pass the time, while he sits at his desk, Nanu looks over the transactions and invoices for the island budget. Unfortunately, it was turning out to be a real pain- the math for the various public services and maintenance of island-owned infrastructure didn't quite add up. To top it off, this mind-numbing migraine wasn't helping matters, either.

    Attempting to placate his nerves, he runs his hand against the fur of a peacefully sleeping Meowth, which was now curled up at his table. Sighing as he ponders the fishy math present on the paperwork, Nanu wonders:

      _Where is that girl? I told her to be here 30 minutes ago...._

     Halfway through giving his temples a much-needed massage, the door is thrown wide open, and the Veteran who served on the Malie City Council dashes into the Po Town Police Station.

     Nanu sighs as he throws his head back against the chair's headrest. _This had better be good._

     The veteran sputters, "K-Kahuna Nanu, it's a straight disaster- there's a media circus outside the entrance to Po Town!"

     Maybe he could just answer the guy in one word sentences, and then the Veteran would leave him be. "So."

     "What do you mean?! It's terrible... there have been newscasters and media vans all over the entrance to the town, and they won't let our construction crews in!"

     "Yeah?" Nanu grunts, and bites the end of a pen cap.

     "On top of it all, it's been pouring nonstop! The weather's worse than it's ever been before!"

     He nods vaguely. "Uh-huh." 

     "Kahuna, take this more seriously!"

     Nanu merely raises an eyebrow. "You came here because you want me to do something about the weather."

     "W-well..." he sheepishly smiles, then asks, "Can't you tell Tapu Bulu to make it stop?"

     "Let's get something straight. First of all. I can't control the will of the Tapus," he points out. "Tapu Bulu wants it to rain? It's gonna rain. Doesn't matter one lick whether you're the Kahuna or one of the common folk."

     "Two- that 'media circus' was caused entirely by your failure to compromise." he continues, smoothing the soft fur of the Meowth that had curled up on his desk.    

     "But I don't understand! She's nobody! Nobody at all now!" he goes on, infuriated. "And yet they've latched onto her as some sort of hero... Can't you do something?! We thought you were on our side..."

     "I'm on the side of the folks here on Ula'ula Island. No one else- don't misunderstand."

     "This is going to be a real problem...!"

     "Look. Told you before that as long as you stood out of my hair, there wouldn't be a problem," Nanu says, standing up from his table. "Now _we_ have a problem."

     "Now, I gotta straighten things out with the folks outside, which is gonna be a damn pain in the ass," he snaps. "Gonna result in a hell of a lot more work for me. And you think you get to lie back and do nothing? Don't think so, sonny. And to tell you the truth, this chair has gotten real comfy. I don't really feel like going anywhere. Guess you're SOL."

     "You have to be able to do something," he posits, scratches his beard in frustration. "Oh, I know! You can tell them that she's mistaken, or better yet, that she's a troublemaker who has problems with people in positions of authority-"

     "I'll do no such thing."

     "What?! Why? Wait..."

      "Don't tell me..." Incensed, the man leans over and jabs a finger into his breast. "...you've grown attached to that insolent Champion because of that little stunt she pulled!"

     Clenching his jaw, Nanu says, "That _girl_ has more integrity and bravery in one of her index fingers than you have in your entire body."

     "I can't believe this! I'll have your badge for this, Officer- I swear on it," he says. "I bet that the people of Ula'ula Island wouldn't look so kindly on a cop who...had certain prejudices."

     In a low voice, he says, "Is that a threat?"

      "I'm just saying..." he absentmindedly twists the bracelets around his wrist. "It might become harder for you to find a place to live if your peers had heard about what kind of biases you have towards young women..."

     It falls deathly quiet.

     Drip.

     Drip.

     Drip.

     The silence is punctuated only by the sound of falling rain.

     "...who _exactly_ do you think runs the Alolan police force, sonny?" Nanu finally says, as he steps out from behind his desk.

     He straightens his back, and comes so close he can see the droplets of sweat beginning to pool on the other man's skin. "I'll give you a hint: he's standing right in front of you. You know a cop that'd turn in his boss, even for nonsense like that, lemme know and I'll get him a promotion and a drink."

      "Also, it's all well and good for you to push around those spineless toads of yours. That's fine— those lackeys of yours're so enamored of your supposed charm that they'll never fact check or lift a finger against you," Nanu spits. "But you wanna know something?"

     His cold, sanguine-red eyes lock onto the Veteran's, and speaking in a low tone of voice that could only be described as unadulterated revulsion, the older man hisses: 

     "...if they watched your face when it was at rest, when you're not putting on this bullshit dog-and-pony show, they'd see you for what you really are—a black-eyed, slit-mouthed, wretched _son of a bitch."_

"Don't give a good goddamn who you are," he snaps. "I'll be damned if I take any orders from the likes of you."

     For several seconds, the two men's eyes make contact, but the Veteran quickly breaks off and stammers, "S-something's not right with you... You're out of order...!"

     "Get out of my sight," Nanu says, that eerie, frigid demeanor of his vanishing so quickly, one would think his personality had been turned off by the flick of a switch.

     Now bored, he then takes his seat,  props his feet up on the desk, and continues, "Come here again and make threats, I'll make damn sure you never see the light of day again."

     The other man is only too happy to comply, and practically dashes out the door. 

 

* * *

 

     "The hell's up with your face?" 

      An hour later, Plumeria arrives. Nanu looks up at the younger woman's face, then shakes his head.

       _Great, another headache._ "Hmph. You've got a hell of a bedside manner," he snorts. "Never you mind that."

     Unwilling to leave well enough alone, Plumeria continues with her annoyingly persistent line of questioning. "One of my guys did that?"

     "No, and it's none of your business, missy." The persistent tap-tap-tap of the younger woman's lacquered nails on his desk and the drumbeat of the rain pouring outside his door only serves to aggravate his migraine further. Sighing, Nanu mutters, "Didn't I tell you to come here an hour ago..."

     "Just woke up from my nap 10 minutes ago, old dude." 

     (The freshly applied charcoal-black mascara and sharply winged eyeliner adorning the younger woman's eyes begs to differ, but he decides to leave that battle for another day.)

     "What's up?" she gives him a coy smirk. "You want me to roll up on the guy that socked you in the face? It'll be like blam-blam-blam, rat-a-tat-tat, oh _man_ , he won't know what hit him!" She rapidly mimes the firing of a machine gun.

     "Hope you're not alluding to illegal possession, missy. You're checking in here for _parole_ too, remember? Don't think I've forgotten." He sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Think it's my fault she's gotten that huge chip on her shoulder, anyways," he mutters to himself, and the smile present on the younger woman only grows wider on her face.

     "Oh-HO! Some chick punched you in the face?! Oh, oh man, I wish I had been there to see that- bet you deserved it, too. Did you make a pass at her?"

     He shrugs. "Maybe I did- maybe I didn't. It's none of your business either way."

     "See, annoying-ass answers like that are what pisses me off about ya. No wonder Olivia can't stand you," Plumeria mutters, and shakes her head. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to piss off every available single lady in Alola..."

     Picking up a Meowth toy that she nearly trips over, she continues, "There's so much Meowth crap here, I can't believe you actually FIND anything in this place! Chicks probably think you're some kinda crazy cat-guy or somthin'."

     "But don't worry, we'll find the sorry sap out there for you," Plumeria then cackles as she places a hand on Nanu's shoulder. "You AND your fifty million cats."

     "This again..." Nanu sighs. "Told you before, missy. Not. Interested. Stop meddling in my love life."

     "Pfft, fine." She crosses her arms across her chest in a huff. "So. What'd you call me in for? You finally decide to lock me up?"

     "I'm calling in a favor."

     "More favors for you, old dude? It's not enough that I took this Z-Ring because you said that 'it'd help me with my growth'...?" 

     Nanu scoffs. "You got off easy. Don't complain- that's practically community service you were slapped on the wrist with. You wanted a fresh start. I gave that to you." 

     "Whatever you say." Scoffing indignantly, Plumeria now says with a roll of her kohl-rimmed eyes, "Listen, old dude- if this is another one of those 'please go to one of those Kahuna meetings I missed' favors, you can bet your ass that-"

     "You interested in hearing what I have to say, missy? Or in just listening to yourself talk?"

     Plumeria narrows her eyes. "I'll hear ya out."

     "The Champ's gonna be doing some construction work tomorrow on that town you used to call home. I'd help her with it, if I were you."

     "What? You want _me_ to help that _wahine_? That's gonna be a headache and a half! It's enough that those news crews won't leave some of my guys alone...!"

     "Also- the hell's up with you, old dude? First you're telling me that I shouldn't bother with that old place and to take your advice, and now you're saying I should help that chick out?" her eyes squint suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

     "Hmm?"

     "There's _always_ a catch with you," Plumeria places her hands on her hips. "You sly bastard... Talk. What's the catch? Before, you were saying I shouldn't bother with that dump, and now you're telling me that I should just pick up my stuff and help out?"

     "No catch." The older man shrugs. "I'll even pay you and your folks for the day."

     Plumeria raises a neatly-plucked eyebrow. "Just the day?"

     "Didn't realize we had a Chatot in here, missy. Yeah, just the day," Nanu scoffs. "We clear?"

     "Sure, 's long as me and mine are being compensated, it's whatever."

     Nanu now holds up his index finger. "One condition."

     "Here comes the catch..." Plumeria groans, and puts her hands on her hips. "What's up."

     "You tell that girl anything about our arrangement, deal's off the table."

     Plumeria snorts, "Whatever."

 

* * *

 

     That same evening, the former Steel-type captain of Ula'ula island gives a phone call to his good friend, Professor Kukui.

     However, a few minutes into their conversation, it occurs to Molayne that it doesn't seem like his friend was in the mood or even willing to make small talk. 

     Strange. Kukui always loved when Molayne would bounce new ideas for generators or power-plants or new invention off of him.

     He wasn't even willing to _pretend_ that he was interested, either. In fact, the only thing his friend was primarily interested in was flipping through a magazine, and twisting his silver wedding band pensively.

     Molayne rubs his head worriedly.

     Even _stranger._

     In an effort to break the silence, he finally asks, "My friend, is something bothering you?"

     "...Have you watched the news recently, Molayne?" Kukui asks, as he places his bottle of Fresh Water onto the desk in front of him. "Did you see what happened earlier today at the Pokémon League?"

      _Oh. He's talking about the Champion..._ Molayne shakes his head."No, I wasn't there in person, but I'm aware about the Alolan Championship title being transferred."

     "Nah, I was getting at more of she said... I can't help but think it was like looking in a mirror, yeah?" he shakes his bottle of Fresh Water absentmindedly. "I wanted to make Alola into a better place than it was before, too. I wanna help out- you would too, right?"

     "Why don't you?"

     "She..." his voice grows low again. "She won't talk to me now at all."

     "That's strange... Why's that?"

     He's curiously silent...

     "Kukui?"

     "..." Kukui closes his eyes and winces as if someone had hurt him. "Don't worry about that. Can you tell me what's goin' on with Po Town?"

     "Wait, don't dodge the subject. What happened?"

     Despite his persistence, his friend doesn't answer his question. "Just tell me what happened with Po Town, yeah?"

     Molayne shakes his head. "You're not going to like this, my friend..."

     "So? When have I backed down from bad news?" his friend unscrews the cap of his bottle of Fresh Water and takes a large gulp. "Lemme hear it."

     "The Malie City Council decided to demolish the settlements there, and build a gated community," Molayne sighs. "They're going to entirely rebuild the town and market it as a new development for the, uh, more financially capable."

     Kukui then nearly spits out his Fresh Water onto the screen in indignation. "What the hell- those guys over there lost their heads or something?! You're not gonna STOP them, brah?"

     "Kukui. The measure came to a vote, and I was outvoted," Molayne sighs. "I tried my best..."

     "Nah, nah, don't sweat it, cousin. I lost my cool for a bit. It couldn't have just been you..." he sighs and rubs his glasses. "What about the other Ula'ula captains? Or the Kahuna?"

     Molayne scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I know that Acerola voted against the measure, and my cousin didn't sit in on the meeting, because he was fast asleep."

     "What about the kahuna? Officer Nanu, yeah? What'd he have to say about it?"

     "Somehow, I don't think the Kahuna was of much help..." Molayne shakes his head. "The Champion was crying yesterday."

     His friend's mien now takes on a sullen and quiet expression. "Why's that?"

     "I'm not sure about the details, but from what I could glean from Acerola, apparently her and Officer Nanu got into a pretty bad argument. I think it had something to do with how she... feels pretty strongly about the people who live there," Molayne says. "But... I don't think she's in a good place right now."

     "Uh-huh." Kukui says, and then murmurs to himself, " _Why didn't you see it beforehand?"_

     "Wait, wait, my friend. You shouldn't be rushing to blame someone here," Molayne says hastily. "You or the Kahuna. I know you and Officer Nanu don't exactly see eye to eye, but... don't let this further sour your opinion of the man."

     Professor Kukui blinks innocuously. "And why would ya think that, cousin?"

     "Kukui, as much as you like to pretend, I know you're still bitter that he turned you down for the Elite Four—aren't you?"

     His friend waves his hand in that familiarly dishonest way. "Nah, nah."

     Molayne sighs and scratches his dusty brown hair. "Don't lie to me..."

     "Well, I'm not exactly gonna be a Pom-Pom style Oricorio at his next arrest, but he has a right to do what he wants, yeah?"

_I guess so, but you just said a bunch of things that didn't really mean anything..._

     "Can you do me a favor...?"

     "What is it?"

     "Can you keep an eye on her? You know, check up on her from time to time. You're there on Ula'ula, right? For your best bud. Please?"

     "Okay, but I don't know why you're asking me..." Molayne says. "I think she'd be much happier to hear from you, Masked Royal!"

     "Well, you know, I'm busy here doing research and..." he trails off absentmindedly. "...I'm trying to make my marriage work."

     He grins widely. "So, I don't have much time to check up on my students! You get me, right, brah?"

     Molayne briefly wonders if he has someone keeping tabs on Lillie and Hau as well, but then smiles and says, "Sure, why not."

 

* * *

 

     That very night, you have half a mind to march into Po Town and chain yourself to a bulldozer (or something reckless like that anyhow). Before doing that, however, you realize that it's infinitely better to have a plan, fully healed Pokémon, and money- before putting into play a course of action.

     After briefly looking over the brochure (sale items, advertisements for positions, special events, etcetera) at the Thrifty Megamart, you browse the shelves of merchandise, stacking every and any kind of thing that you would need to mount your assault on Po Town.

     Maybe assault was putting it a bit mildly- try all-out war.

     As you stand on at the unreasonably long line at the register, you feel around for your wallet, and discover that it's strangely light. However, looking into your wallet now, you discover that it's almost completely devoid of money. 

     Uh-oh. How could you have forgotten- with your loss to Gladion, all the money you owned had been halved. And those 20-somewhat people you won weren't exactly loaded with cash, either. 

     Cursing your bad luck and lack of forethought, you reason with yourself:

     Guess even ex-Champions needed to find work too, don't they?  
  
     Remembering the boldly and prominently typed _help wanted_ banner  on the Thrifty Megamart brochure, you decide to ask customer service if there are any last-minute openings for a position at the supermarket. At this point, there weren't a lot of things you wouldn't do for a little bit of money. 

     When you get there, the young woman staffing the customer service window sighs to herself. "How can there be so many people at 1:30 AM at night?" Perking up at the sight of your face, the manager (?) asks, "Wait- your face looks kind of familiar... do I know you? Are you some kind of celebrity? Maybe from PokeStar Studios?!"

     Averting your eyes from the boldly printed type reporting of your loss to Gladion on the newspapers placed next to the cash register, you say, "No, I think you're remembering someone else... Are there still openings available for the overnight shift?"

     "Hmm, I don't think so. But if you're here, we could always use the extra help!" the girl chirps. "I wanted to go on break, but my boss has me here manning the customer service booth until 9 AM..."

    "I know! You can cover my shift!" She says, a little too enthusiastically for someone handing over their job to a _complete_ stranger. The thought of working retail customer service isn't exactly appealing to you, but the young lady goes on to say, "It's not hard- all you need to do is say 'yes, sir!' to all their complaints, and pretty much get them whatever they want!"

    Sensing your reluctance, she gestures to your cart. "If you cover my shift, I'll pay for all the stuff in your cart! Just make sure it's not over ¥5,000, okay?"

    Works for you.

    After hastily sticking you in a Thrifty Megamart uniform, the young woman takes off faster than a Talonflame riding on a jetstream downhill. You don't really have the time to have her answer many questions about the operations of the supermarket, and sigh to yourself. Hopefully you could just learn on the job. 

    After dealing with the deluge of complaints from frustrated Akalan townspeople, _'no that item isn't on sale,'_ _'yes, I can price-match that for you,' 'whatever you say, sir/ma'am'_ , you heave a large sigh and take a seat at one of the rickety tables in the dining area of the supermarket.

     A familiar looking Punk Guy stops beside your table, wearing an identical Thrifty Megamart uniform, save for his red bandana. "Wait, wahine, what're you doin' here? Don't ya have somethin' better to do?" 

    Now recognizing him from that battle you had gotten into some days prior, you shake your head and say, "No, I don't."

    He asks, now standing in front of the table, "How'd you get stuck with a crappy job like this?"

    Not willing to say it was because of your lack of planning, you hesitate and say, "I'm trying to earn some money to get by."

    "Ain't we all?" he laughs, and takes the seat at the table next to yours. You drop your shoulders in relief. "I don't got no beef with ya. Lotta people been talking bout how you backtalked to those morons over there on Ula'ula!"

    He goes on. "Sorry, for what I said before. Those guys... they're the reason why I said before that if you were born on the wrong side of the tracks, that they don't want ya here. Me and my fam used ta live in Ula'ula."

     "Really?"

     "Yeah, before Malie City's rent went up through da freakin' ceiling." he folds up one of the brown paper napkins into sail-boat. "My mom and pop were supposed to get some money from the city for ya know, to kinda say 'sorry for kicking ya outta ya home' sort of deal... but it never came."

     "Oh..." you say. "I'm sorry."

     "Nah, it's not your fault." He shakes his head. "Whaddya think about that guy, Gladion? Think he's strong enough to be the champ?"

     "He's pretty strong, but I don't think that it just takes being strong to be the Champion. I think that you have to be a good person, too." Smiling, you say, "I believe he'll do a good job- because I believe in him."

     The Punk Guy blinks. "Really think so?"

     You nod. "I really, really think so."

     "You're not like most people on these islands, then, chick. Lotta us missed that person in our life..." the grunt shakes his head, and presses his lips together in a thin line. "Someone who believed in us."

     "Maybe... you need to be that person to yourself." you say, looking him in the eye. "It's never too late to try and be the hero you needed when you were a kid."

     "That's what I think," you say. "And... that's why I'm trying to make Po Town a better place."

     He says nothing, and simply nods.

     Over the course of that conversation, your 15-minute break flies by in a flash and with a groan, you find yourself once again manning the customer service area of the Thrifty Megamart.

     "Good evening, welcome to the Thrifty Megamart..." you mumble, half-asleep, scanning the items in front of you on pure muscle memory alone. "Did you find all of the things you were looking for? A half-pound carton of Rawst and Pecha Berries are half off..."

     After a brief moment of silence, a voice says, "Think I'll pass, girl. Found who I'm looking for."

     That familiar low-pitched, hoarse voice sends chills down your spine, and startled, you look up and lock eyes with....

     ...Officer Nanu.  
     

     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alolan/Hawaiian Glossary of Terms
> 
> wahine: the Hawaiian/Alolan word for woman or girl.


	11. Extra + Ordinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dyed deeply within you is the sun's reflection of the moon, leading you through the darkness of this fleeting world. 
> 
> And that man began to believe that you could accept him for who he was in the past, as well as the him of the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, long time no see. 
> 
> I've been busy offline, and haven't had much time to commit to this story. Thanks so much for your patience, and there's a little surprise at the end that I think you might like.
> 
> Let's just jump into it!

     You blink, rub your eyes. 

     Okay, what...

     ...what in the world was Officer Nanu doing in Akala's Thrifty Megamart?

     Maybe you were in the wrong Thrifty Megamart? But that couldn't be right, because you remembered Ula'ula's supermarket had been reduced to nothing but rubble and ghosts of the distant past. Still, you were half-convinced you were, because at 4:30 in the morning, Officer Nanu didnt exactly look very glamorous. In fact, keeping with the ghost theme, the kahuna looked like he was on a one-way trip to the Hau'oli Cemetery; resembling more of a specter from another life, with the grey-purplish bags under his eyes, and hoarser than normal catch in his deep voice.

     "You're here pretty late." he remarks.

      Moving with a speed and agility you didn't know you could have in the wee hours of the morning, you scan his items, keeping your words short and terse to the kahuna. "I took the late shift at the supermarket to buy some construction materials."

After counting down to fifteen again in your head, you ask him again, "Did you find everything you needed okay?"

     He shrugs and nods. And in a bizarre, somewhat way of showing concern, Nanu asks, "How're you doing...?"

      _Just scan and bag, scan and bag, scan and bag..._ "A little tired," you say, wiping your eyes, "but it's nothing I can't handle."

     A short period of time passes when you're just scanning his items- you know you very well can't ask him, _how's your face?_ , so you keep to yourself.

     Nanu finally lets out a defeated sigh. "Look, kid. Hate to see you here working yourself to the damn bone."

     He sighs, shakes his head. "You can't feed yourself on the good words of others." Nanu looks at you. "Acts of kindness won't pay the bills."

     Okay, so much for the 'showing concern' part. The kahuna, apparently, came here to give you a lecture. Or he's trying to get in the last word. Normally, you'd be mad— and you had every right to be. You _should_ be mad, right? 

     'Should' being the operative word here. You _should_ be clenching your fists, _should_ be shoving his bags aside, _should_ be shouting, _"Does it make you feel better to kick people when they're down, kahuna?!"_ because who did Nanu think he was, thinking he, out of all people, had  _any_ right to give you a lecture— 

     But.

     But you aren't, and so you don't.

     Because he doesn't understand.

     You then shake your head, stop scanning his purchase, and say "I... don't think you get it, Officer Nanu."

     Nanu looks just as surprised as you feel. "How's that?"

     "Because..." 

     "Actually, you were right." you shake your head. "I started this for maybe the wrong reason at first. I was too attached to how Po Town was in the past. Or that I would get something from someone because I was doing something nice for them..."

      "But if you think that thinking the best of people makes me dumb, then... I'm okay with it. I don't think there's anything wrong with caring about something. Even if it doesn't work out."

     "The place's  _ruined,_ girl. A complete mess. " He eyes you curiously, pensively, almost like a Meowth that had just come upon a soft ball of yarn. "Why bother?"

     "That's..." Clutching your side with one hand, you say quietly, "...such a cruel word."

     "Not cruel. Just a fact," he replies matter-of-factly, as if this truth should be absolutely self-evident to you. 

     You look at him, ready to get into another argument with him, but for some reason, the morose, defeated look in his eyes dissuades you against it. "Because how you can just describe something as ruined is cruel to me. I think... that's really sad. Because calling something ruined implies that it'll be broken that way, always and forever. But how can you say if it became that way by itself, right? And who's to say that how..." 

     "...how it was before is how it's going to turn out in the future?"

     As you resume bagging his groceries, you notice Nanu's unnervingly crimson eyes continuing to watch your figure. "I'm not going to ask for your help, Officer Nanu. I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do. But..." you say, "...I hope that you can try and see it from my point of view."

     "And if it's not worth the effort... well, that's for me to decide, I think." The mundane, numbing sound of the electronic bar code scanner seems to calm you as you continue to scan his items. Surprisingly enough, there's a multitude on the conveyor belt such as several cartons of heavy cream.  "I know... I must look pretty stupid to you."

      Just peachy. Losing your championship title, telling your mentor and good friend that you hated him and never wanted to see him again, and on top of it all, talking back to an island kahuna...

     You then meet his eyes with your own and say, "But I don't care if I look stupid, or if I feel stupid. I'm here because I wanted to do the right thing. And I'd do it, ten times, twenty times over, because I did it because it was the right thing to do. That's why."

     Guess you could say _sayonara_ to any prospect of long-term employment.

     "Will that be all, Officer?"

     Nanu snorts, "Don't have to call me that when I'm off duty." Gesturing to his burgundy-red shirt, he clarifies, "Not working."

     Almost as if to undermine your point, your stomach begins to growl and whine. Glaring at him, you mutter, "I talked too much and got hungry..."

    He laughs abruptly, the scratchy, deep sound oddly out of place and strange, like a meowth on all fours being dragged across a dusty piano's keys. "Whatever you say, kid."

     An alert comes up at the register with a soft ding. "Oh. This one is BOGO." It's a plastic-wrapped package of seafood flavored instant ramen.

     "BOGO? You kids and your acronyms..." he gives you a teasing, crooked smirk, leans forward just a tiny bit to put you on edge. "Dunno what that means... Educate me."

      _Seriously?_  You hold out the same flyer with all of the store's promotional deals labeled on it, and jab at the instant ramen with your index finger. "Buy one, get one free."

     Nanu lets out a low-pitched whistle. "Things like that exist, huh...?" He then peers closely at you. 

     "Officer." You can't believe your ears, so you say incredulously, "You don't know what buy one get one free is."  

     He laughs again, that same peculiar, out of place sound coming from his mouth. "Kid, when you've been a bachelor for as long as _I_ have, you never need to worry about buying for another warm body." The older man then peers at you closely. "What should I do? Only enough room in the station fridge for one of these."

     Inhaling deeply to calm your nerves, you resume bagging his purchase. "Well, kahuna, you could eat one now and save the other one for later."

     "Hmm. I'm only planning on eating the one."

      _This is a practical joke. It HAS to be,_ you decide. _How else could Nanu spend the last 40-somewhat years of his existence not knowing what buy one, get one free was?_  

     Being able to eat at expensive sushi restaurants like Sushi High Roller, and yet not know what buy one get one free was... guess becoming an island kahuna had its perks. 

     You point out, "But still, the other one would be free..." unable to imagine anyone being able to turn down free food.

     Nanu thinks a little to himself, adjusts the z-crystal pendant around his neck. "I can't say why you feel stupid, girl. Sorry if I made you feel that way. You're a pretty smart cookie. Even knew what those darned, newfangled acronyms mean."

     "When's your break?" he then asks you, out of the blue. 

     "Huh?"

    

* * *

 

     As you sit here uncomfortably in a plastic creaky chairs in front of Officer Nanu, eating cheap ramen, you wonder how you got shanghaied into this to begin with.

     The prospect of free food probably had something to do with it. The bright, pseudo-cheery fluorescent lighting hanging above the two of you wasn't exactly a romantic backdrop.

     To break the unnerving silence, you finally say, "Kahuna, I have a question for you."

    Nanu looks up from his noodles. His familiar insulated mug of coffee is perched in front of him on the table. "What's up." 

    "During my break, a person said that they used to live in Malie City. Does that sound familiar to you?"

     "Sure. Malie wasn't always a tourist trap. Bunch of folks got pushed out when the place was gentrified," he says, stirring his coffee. "The gardens cost a lot of money to build and maintain. They should've been compensated by the city."

    "But... no money ever came to those people. Why is that, Officer?"

     "The funds probably got misplaced."

     "And you're okay with that?" 

     "Let's just say I'm looking into it." he says, then asks flippantly, "You always this intense on the first date?"

     Huh? Date? What was Nanu talking about now? You decide not to question him on it further, figuring that you had just misheard him. It is pretty early in the morning, after all.

     "I just wanted to know the answer to the question. I took a break earlier, and one of those people work here..." you say. "And I wanted to help them as soon as possible."

     "And here I was just thinking you eat fast. What's the rush?"

     You blink. "It is free, isn't it?"

     "Speaking so casually to me, huh... Don't you know that you're speaking to an island kahuna, here?" he asks. "Girls like you normally act real nice to a fellow who's buying them food."

     "I do, but you offered to buy it for me," you say, then point out, "And besides, you already paid, so it's not like you can take the food back." You slurp up the rest of the noodles.

     "Wow, the nerve of this girl..." he whistles. "So I'm not special, is that it? You would've just gone with anyone who gave you free food?"

     "No, you're special to me, Kahuna."

     "How so."

     Leaning forward, you come in really close (almost too close to the kahuna for your comfort), and say coyly, "That's right. You're special because..."

     Noticing his chair lurching precariously forward on its front two legs as Nanu leans towards you, you give his chair a hard shove, and he falls backwards against the chair. You then push his forehead with your index finger. "I have a special _dislike_ for you!"

     "Thinking that you're entitled to a girl's heart just because you paid for her dinner...." you stand up abruptly out of your seat, dispose of the contents of your instant ramen in the trash, and give him a pointed look. "That's the absolute _worst."_ You then take a swig of water to wash down the salty soup stock.

     Nanu leans back in his chair, that familiar nonchalant, at ease slump returning to his body posture. "Huh, that's funny. Back in my day we just called that dating."

      The kahuna's last five words then send you into a panicked fit of hacking and coughing. Sodium-laden seafood ramen broth and water goes down the entirely wrong hatch. 

      _WHAT?_ He meant whatever THIS was as a date? Like Pokestar Studio-style, eating spaghetti under a full moon, 'that's amore~' date?!

     "Wait," Stunned, you repeat, your voice going about three octaves higher than you would have liked, "Y-you really think _we're_ on a _date_?"

     Nanu cocks his eyebrow in a pretty good 'weren't you listening?' way. However, he then replies, "Sure, why not?" as if this fact should have been _pretty_ obvious to you.

     He then leans over the table, props his elbows on its surface and smirks. "A girl with a backbone... now, that's a real turn-on."

     Upon taking a closer look at your now hot, beet-red face, the older man bursts out laughing, that same out-of-place sound now changing into a full-fledged hearty guffaw. "L-Lighten up, kid! Jokes are funny."

     The utter irony of the dark-type kahuna telling you to _lighten up_ is not lost on you.

     You exclaim, "How am I supposed to be calm when you're not saying anything that makes any sense?!"

     He shrugs slightly. "Who said I was kidding... That scowl's pretty cute on your face, girl."

     You heave a sigh, and sit upright.  _What an utterly tone-deaf, Nanu thing to say._

     Wait. Hold on...

     Cute?

     Cute _how?_

     Cute like _"aww, I just wanna pinch your cheeks, uncle-style"_ cute?

     Or cute like...

     ....      _  
_

_Agh! Who cares about WHAT Nanu thinks is cute or HOW he thinks something is cute or WHO he thinks is cute!_

     The flush that rapidly returns to your cheeks makes them burn again with embarrassment, and judging by the mischievous smirk on his face, you're sure that Nanu must be having a grand old time at your expense. Unwilling to humiliate yourself any further, you then stand up abruptly from the table, pushing the plastic chair backwards with an awkward screech.

     "Leaving so quickly? And here I was starting to enjoy myself...."

     "How can I stay here when you say things that don't make any sense?!" you nearly yell, really, really embarrassed now. "T-Thank you for the food," you stammer. "But I have to get going."

      "Heading to that old place, huh?" he says, and throws you a glittering object, you catch it in mid-flight. "That's the key to the gates. Don't lose it, girl."

      You nod, and turn to go back to your register.

     Before you leave, Nanu calls out, "Kid. Standing on principle won't make you any taller."

     "Then..." you halt in place, and say audibly, "I'll stretch myself, no matter how small I am, out as far as I can go. I'm not doing it for anyone else's sake. And as long as I can hold my head up high..." you say,  

     "I'll have no regrets."

 

* * *

   
     The next morning, after your hellishly long overnight shift, you return to the gates of Po Town.

     You're not sure if you're mentally prepared to face those people down, all by yourself, but you had to at least try.

     As you open the gates, you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the worst, only to discover-

     It's empty. Completely empty.

     Save for a few pieces of equipment, Po Town was just as empty as you had left it.

     Weird. 

     If anyone was going to jump out at you figure, it would be better for it to be later rather than sooner, and get right to work.

    Only a few hours later in the midst of your work, you remembered why you had left in the first place. Rebuilding an entire town was tough work, and you certainly didn't have the technical know-how to do it without your RotomDex, or Professor Kukui helping you.

    As you contemplate giving up, you hear the sound of footsteps. You wipe the sweat from your brow and call out,  slowly and carefully, "I know... I know that I can't do this all by myself."

     "But I'll never—"

     A young woman's voice, clear and deep, cuts you off with, "...The hell are you going on about?"

     You whirl around to see Plumeria, hands akimbo on her hips, a gaggle of Punk Girl and Punk Guys behind her.

     "Plumeria?" you ask. "Why are you here?"

     She adjusts her bandana. "Why? I need a reason to be useful?"

     You don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, or be ungrateful for the young woman's help, so you shake your head.

     "Hey, you losers! Wanna be helpful for once and help the Champ out?!"

      They don't seem as enthusiastic as you'd like, but spurred on by Plumeria's words, they promptly get to work.

      Halfway through the day, in the midst of your work re painting some of the houses, Plumeria turns to you, and asks:

      "What do you want us to do with this wall? Repaint it?"

     You say, "I was actually planning to take down the wall."

     "Why's that?" she asks you. "You aren't planning to fix this place up so the island could sell it or something?"

     "Oh," you say.  "Not exactly. Well, the plan was that all of you could come and live here, when it's done."

     She stops painting. "What'd you say?"

     You cock your head to one side. "You don't like the idea?"

     Plumeria's hands shake, and she looks...

     ...sad. Sad and angry and hopeless.

     "Are you looking down on us?" she asks.

     "Do you feel sorry for us?" she asks, and clenches her hand into a fist. "Honestly, people like you make me sick to my stomach! Don't you understand? That's not who we are anymore."

     "You think..."

     "You think that everything's just gonna be solved at the drop of a hat?" she snaps. "You're even worse than those guys."

      _What?_

     "We don't need your pity." a Punk Girl snaps.

     "We're just people who need to get normal jobs, and live normal lives, and not be losers. Can't you understand that?"

     "If we return here, we'll just be the losers they thought we were."

     "We just need to fit in, and not cause trouble, so that we can survive. That's what everyone says we should do. Why are you any different?"

     "No, I didn't mean that... If you took down the wall, maybe you could have everyone come to the town."

     "Maybe the wall is good. Good for keeping people out." she turns away from you. "Maybe it's good that it's up so that the island can probably turn this dump into a fancy tourist place. So they can keep people out too."

     "No, that's not what I mean. Let me just show you." you try to pull up a display on your RotomDex, but-

     But your RotomDex doesn't respond.

     Right. Because you had chased away friends that had cared about you. 

     But maybe, just maybe this time, you could attempt to make things a little bit better. You notice a little flower on the wall, and think a little.

     What if the sum of something that was... not needed and something ordinary...

     "Even this is ugly, too." Plumeria scoffs, now smearing the paint all over the walls. "I don't know why I even bothered."

      A Punk Girl reaches out sadly to the older woman. "Big sis—"

      It's too late. The flower's smeared...

      And you realize that if you just reach out carelessly, you'll cut yourself on the shards of who these people used to be.

      Shaking your head, you say. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. But if I said or did something insensitive... I'm sorry." Humming a little to yourself, you pick up the paintbrush. Now, you're no great artist like Mina, but you figured that maybe, you'd try and make things a little bit better. 

     "W-What are you doing?" Plumeria snaps, her body still puffed up in that same confrontational posture.

     "I'm repainting your design," you say, and finish her flower. "It's really pretty, and if you filled the wall up, you could make the whole wall really colorful. It'd be like a mural, or something..."

     "W-why would you want to do something stupid like that?" Plumeria sputters. "That flower's really freaking ugly. No one cares about that kind of stuff."

     "I," you point to yourself, "care, so that makes at least _one_ person that cares." 

     "Weren't you trying to erase this a while ago?" a Punk Girl asks you. "Why do you suddenly care about what we have to say?"

     "You're right. I did," you say. "But I was wrong. That's what I meant."

     "There was always this huge wall here. Because we're trying to keep busybodies like you out."

     "Okay, if you want to keep the wall, then..." you say. "You can. But you don't  don't have to keep people out with it." you shake your head. "See?"

     Motioning to the wall, you smile. "I drew a picture next to yours. Now they both look great. And even though my picture isn't so great," you gesture to the two drawings, "when you put it together, it looks amazing!"

     "So something that's extra plus something ordinary..."

     "If you put the words together, they become something totally different, brah."

    You carefully try to walk around the shards, pick them up one by one a little bit at a time. "That's right! Imagine what the wall, no, our mural, would look with everyone's art on it!"

     "That'd be pretty sick!" you hear one Punk Guy say.

     "Maybe that's not a bad idea..."

     "If you fill in the entire wall, it can look really great." Looking down at the black screen of your RotomDex, you say sadly, almost as if to apologize, "Because no one can do everything by themselves."

     A familiar-looking Punk Guy says, "I could draw an Jangmo-o. Those are super cool."

     A soft murmuring buzzes from the crowd, as they ponder about what to do.

     "So, we can put anything we want on it?" a Punk Girl asks you.

     "Sure, why not?" you say, then turn to Plumeria. "Everyone's trying to make it... If you don't want me here, I understand. But I'm just trying to help. And I feel if we all work together, we can make this place something to be proud of."

     The young woman doesn't say much to you, but she picks up a brush and continues to paint, too.

      

* * *

 

     Late into the evening, before the candles that you and your Pokémon had lit in the town burn out, you hear voices that immediately make your blood boil. "Humph, look at this place. It's already ruined."

     These guys again... 

     Swiveling around on your heel, you meet the condescending stares of the city council.

     A Beauty asks, "What was this supposed to be anyway, some kind of graffiti?" You and Plumeria exchange glances, the young woman instantly giving you an apologetic look. "How ugly. It would have looked so nice just with the plain grey..."

     "Ah, it's the Ex-Champion. Still here, after all this time?" With a flippantly dismissive wave of his hand, he says, "Now that you're not the Champion anymore, you really don't have any right to be here."

     "Because now you're just a loser like the rest of them."

     The Rising Star concurs, "Without that title, you're no one."

     A pit of self doubt begins to settle in your stomach.

     Maybe he's right. If you weren't the Champion...

     Who are you? Who _really_ are you?

     "Is this the culmination of your efforts? This sloppy painting?" the Veteran asks. "Can't you see? They're not good for anything! Look at this pristine wall- it's been dirtied up with graffiti and lewd things."

     It's just people playing with their Pokémon...

     "Had a change of heart? We could still use your spunk and quick thinking on our project for the town!" She turns to the others. "Well, maybe not so much the spunk part..."

     "The offer's still available. You must see how difficult it is to work with these people!" she asks. "Have you thought of an answer for us?"

     You spy Nanu watching you out of the corner of your eye.

    "My answer hasn't changed," you say, lifting your chin. "And if you came here because you hoped that it would, then you're going to be disappointed."

     You grit your teeth. "Without your help, _we're_  going to save Po Town." placing special emphasis on the word "we". 

     Astonished, he sputters: "What?"

     "I said..." you say firmly, "That I want to help them fix up their home."

     "How can you?!"

     "People like these—they take no pride in ownership! They don't understand the concept of home... They're losers who aren't going anywhere in life- just look at them." the Teacher scoffs derisively, "You'll see- your rebuilding of this town is going to go nowhere fast! Po Town is unfixable! It's impossible."

     "The Rising Star sputters, "Do you think you're some kind of hero?"     

     "Don't be silly- she's nobody important at all. Who cares about the former Champion? She's just another washed up loser like the rest of them."

      "You're wrong." You say slowly, and angrily, "I've been listening quietly to you talk this entire time..."

     "So what if we're extra- we still have a place in this world, don't we?" you ask indignantly. 

     "Even if... even if this town can never return to the way that it was..." Balling up your fists, you shout, "Our lives still have meaning! This town, our home, can still become something extraordinary."

     "Yeah."  
  
     "This is our home, too," one person pipes up from the crowd, "And we're not leaving without a fight!"

     "Because we're those guys who get beaten down by, and even when the world won't let up, we get up..." Plumeria   
"That's who we are!"

     The Rising Star turns to the Veteran. "This situation is spiraling out of control..."

     The Veteran's voice is reaching. Turning to the older man, he asks, "Kahuna Nanu-"

     A low pitch in his voice, the older man warns, "You call me Kahuna Nanu one more time, I'm sending you folks straight to the Daycare where  _they_ can babysit you."

     "It's illegal!" the Rising Star says, panicked. "They're trespassing on private property, aren't they? We can just kick them out."

     He shrugs. "Wouldn't recommend that..."

     "If you wanna get real technical about it, these folks have lived in these houses for more than a year. They've established tenancy..." he continues, "Since the original tenants of the buildings came back, you need to give them at least 30 days notice before you can kick 'em out."

     "Hear that?"

     "And it'd be a real media circus if you did..." he gives you a meaningful look. "That girl's fond of causing trouble."

     "See? You've got no legs to stand on!" A person from the crowd yells.

     "So don't mess with us, you hear?"

     "Because we're extra-" you say, and shoot a glance to the Punk Guy standing next to you, he chimes in, right on cue, "-ordinary!"

     Plumeria then shouts, putting her arms around the two of you, "And you punks just can't compare, so you just should run on home!"

     The teacher sputters. "Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable."

     The Veteran's face is fuming, indignant with anger. "We'll talk about this later in the station," he warns Nanu.

     Nanu shrugs. It's clear he doesn't really think much of it. You briefly wonder what they had been talking about before, but put it out of your head.

     Very much the picture of dogs with tails tucked between their legs, they leave, and cheering and shouting emanates from the crowd:

     "Woo-hoo!"

     "We did it!"

     You smile, but the ground feels unstable, and as your legs give out from underneath you, you sink to the floor and kneel down onto the ground.

     Plumeria puts her hands akimbo on her hips. "Hey, whatcha doing down on your knees? Get up!"

      "I... I can't." You don't know why, but... you feel like a weight's been lifted from your shoulders, and you couldn't stay on your feet for any longer.

     "Why? You can't relax yet, _wahine._ You have an important job to do!" 

     "Why?" you ask.

     Plumeria spreads her arms wide, gesturing to the crowd of ex Team Skull Grunts, Punk Guys and Girls. "Take a look around!"

     You turn your head to look at the now emboldened crowd, happily chattering amongst themselves, gesturing to the town.

     A Punk Girl yells, "Yeah! We're waiting for you to tell us what to do!"

     Your eyes widen, and you say quietly, "Me? But why? You heard them. I'm not the Champion anymore. And I can't really tell you what to do."

     "So?" She demands.

     "So...?" you repeat back to her dumbly. "You... know that I'm nobody special. I'm not the Champion. You don't have to listen to me. This is _your_ home."

     "Didn't you hear me? I _said_ ," Plumeria rolls her eyes and blows a bubble of gum. "So what, you're not the Champion. Who cares?"

     "You keep going. That's what."

     Pain may be inevitable, but suffering is only temporary. It's up to you, when you decide to get up.

     "Yeah, it's just a fancy title!" a Punk Girl yells from the crowd. "Like big sis said, who cares?"

     "Kid," you hear a familiar voice say behind you. "A champion isn't something you can just choose to be."

     Whirling around on your heel, you see Nanu gazes at you, shaking his head. "It's what you become when people trust and look up to you."

     "That's right!" someone else yells.

     He moves his head in the direction of the crowd. "All those folks're waiting for you. You gonna keep them waiting?"

     Plumeria folds her arms across her chest. "So, what are you going to do, Miss Heroine?"

     "You don't have to," you say. "I can't pay you..."

     "Who gives a crap?! If this is our place, then we gotta have some pride in where we live, and who we are. Besides, what kinda person do you think I am?" She shakes her head. "I gave you my word. You're one of us now!"

     "Are we gonna abandon the Champ?" she calls out. "What do you say, guys?!"

     Shouting and exclamations come from behind her slim figure.

     "Hell no!"

     "She's aight!"

     "I'm down with the Champ if y'all are!"

     "Nah, that's our GIRL!"

     "Hear that?" she yells. "Let's show those bastards what Team Skull's all about!"

     "Let's do it!"

     Their faces are aglow with something that looks like...something extraordinary. 

     Faint whispering continues to come from the crowd. "Hey, guess that Kahuna's not too bad huh?"

     "That was some seriously cool shit."

     "Cool as a cucumber! Wow, I wish I could be that chill."

     "Not half bad for a cop..."

     "Hey, girl." Nanu walks up to you, holds his right hand out. "Give me your hand."

     Looking at Nanu now, dressed in his crooked-smile and all, his hand held out, you realize he...

     ...really, really isn't so bad, and deeply regret your harsh words. And even though you had sworn to hate him with all your heart, you find out that it's not at all turning out so well.

 

* * *

 

     "Look, don't waste your breath if you've come here to bribe me," Nanu says as he takes his seat at the desk. "I'm worn out and no amount of money'll change that."

    "What?" the Veteran demands. "You have to do something! We've done a good job, haven't we? We've brought prosperity to the island!" 

     "What you've been doing is been pocketing the funds."

     "Excuse me?"

     "Don't give me that bull, looking at me like you haven't heard me. You've been mismanaging Ula'ula Island revenue for who knows how long." He stares. "And I hate to be played for a fool."

     After getting up from his seat, the older man clamps the Veteran's hands behind his back with the cold steel of the handcuffs.

     "H-hey, what are you doing?! Let me go!"

     "You're under arrest for embezzlement  in the first degree."

     "B-but can't you trust me?" the man's practically diaphoretic. How _pathetic_. "We've done so much good... I won't say anything if you just let this slide."

     "At the expense of who? I think I can trust you to make the most damned undignified public spectacle possible before you finally give up the ghost." his eyes bore into him. "Nah, you're pretty special, sonny. For you, I'm gonna recommend the harshest possible sentence to the prosecutor."

     "Should be fine with you. People deserve to know what you've been doing with their money, right?" He shrugs nonchalantly. "You're getting a pretty good deal. Remember what I said earlier? Were it up to me, you'd never see the light of day again."

     "Those Team Skull folks stole, sure..." he says quietly. "Give you that. But at least they were upfront about it. Never lied or pretended they were better than others."

     "But two-faced, wretched, lying scum like you..." he sets down his cup of coffee. "I _despise_."

     The man wildly throws the force of his handcuffed fists together at his face, and he's hit on the uninjured side of his face.

    Grabbing his arm, Nanu twists it in one direction, and a sickening, audible crack resounds throughout the deathly quiet building.

     He throws his head back and says coldly, "Honestly, striking a cop, you've got some nerve..."

     The Veteran shrieks in pain, cradling his arms together like a shaken, panicked child. "You...you broke my wrist!"

     "Whoops." 

     "But that works out for me just fine... You can stay there and be a good boy. You're in time-out." He focuses his attention onto the remaining group of people. "And for the rest of you folks... You give that girl a hard time again, and I won't be happy."

     "How's that sound to you folks?" He laughs a little to himself. "Not like you have much of a choice, but just humor me and nod."

     Cowed into silence, they simply nod and nervously smile. There's something so unnaturally vile about their obsequious, toady subservience, so much so that it makes his stomach turn with complete, unabashed disgust. 

      "Huh. You're a bunch of cowards... willing to sell somebody out so that you can save your own skins. Worse than Krabby in a bucket*." 

     The voice taunts:  _Just. Like. You._

_His superior places a hand on his shoulder. "Don't let me down, 000."_

"This...this is police brutality!" the Rising Star shouts. "It's all of us against you. You still haven't given us any proof of the charges leveled against him!"

      "And that's what's so great bout it. I don't need to give YOU proof. Who's the jury gonna believe, anyway...?" Nanu asks, staring the Rising Star down. "The word of a kahuna and a cop versus the word of some low-level, snot-nosed bureaucrat... Don't make me laugh."

     "And you're not excluded from this either, boy." Nanu looks the Rising Star up and down. "Don't get that kinda dough working a public service job, do you?"

     The young man looks away guiltily.

     He spits, "Didn't think so."

     "If we're done here," Nanu says, motioning to the front door, "Make sure the door doesn't hit your ass on the way out."

     Their absence leaves the station nice and quiet, just the way he likes it. However, even that silence is short-lived, because—

     Only a few moments later, Plumeria slams open the door, and yells, "You freaking BASTARD!"

 

* * *

 

      **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thanks so much for supporting me, guys. It really means so, so much to me when I log in and see all of your words of encouragement, and that drives me to be more motivated in my writing because you guys are rooting for me. Here's a little doodle I pried out of a friend as a thanks for all the love- you all are the greatest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *When Nanu refers to "Krabby in a bucket", it's actually a quote from the commonly used phrase, "crabs in a bucket". Crabs have a tendency to pull each other down, even though if they had worked together, they could possibly all escape.
> 
> Also, did you know that the equivalent of "cripes" in real life is Christ? I'll just be keeping it as cripes in the story, because I don't think the concept of Christianity is even A Thing in Pokémon, so yeah.


	12. One of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where separate parts start coming together to form a greater whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my, is this... an update?! Wow, it must be a Thanksgiving miracle!! (Apologies for those who don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.) 
> 
> I haven’t been able to rest without writing whenever I get a free moment, and I couldn’t leave this fic unfinished, when there are so many plot threads hanging around that aren’t resolved yet! So, my apologies, and thanks for sticking around thus far!
> 
> This fic won’t be canon with the events of Ultra Sun and Moon. (Honestly, it’s not really canon with Sun and Moon, but whatever.) I don’t have the time to play the new games and revise the plot of the story based on any new character developments! Sorry, but I hope you guys can still appreciate the story nonetheless.
> 
> Let’s get to it! ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ

  
     Plumeria slams open the door. "You bastard!"

     "Why is it," she pulls the silver-haired man up by his collar, and you marvel inwardly at the young woman's strength. "That whenever I end up doing a favor for you, I ALWAYS get screwed over?!"

     A wide grin stretches across Officer Nanu’s face, and he almost busts out with shaky, hoarse laughter. “Who-who said that I screwed you over? Use your head, missy. You’ve got a place to stay now...”

     “You freaking bastard," Plumeria snarls. "Bet you think this is really funny, don't 'cha?"

     Nanu smirks even wider, the satisfied expression on his face not entirely unlike an amused Meowth teasing a ball of yarn. "Damn funny at that."

     "Y-You knew I was gonna end up offering to do this for free, huh? Screw you," she swears, and lets go of his collar. "Wish I could find the person who gave you a knuckle sandwich and give them a freaking award or something!”

      _Wait!_ You want to shout. _What’s going on? Why are YOU angry at Officer Nanu?_  
Alas, words are flying so quickly out of her mouth that you have no idea what’s going on.

     He motions to you. “Why don't you thank her yourself, missy."

     Her pupils dart around. “Huh? Where's that punk?"

     Blinking, you ask, “Where’s who? Huh?”

     “She’s asking,” he points to his bruised cheek. “Who punched me in the kisser.”

     “Oh.” Your face turns red. You then stammer, “Y-You're looking at her.”

     Her eyes widen. "Wait. You're..." she peers closely at you. "You-"

     “YOU-"

     Plumeria looks like she’s going to do the PokèPolka. “YOU'RE THE ONE WHO PUNCHED OLD DUDE NANU IN THE FACE?!" Then, she lets out the loudest cackle, the sound of which leaves your ears ringing.

     “BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

     “Oh, that’s freaking...That’s freaking hilarious! No wonder he didn't want to say anything!" Plumeria wheezes, "Oh man, I'm never letting that old dude live this down..."

     She then sidles up next to the older man slyly. “Man, how’d you get your ass kicked by a cute girl, huh?"

     He scoffs, rolls his eyes. “If she hadn’t Sucker Punched me in the face, maybe things would’ve been different.”

     “Yeah, you wish.” Plumeria suddenly declares, “You know what? I'm all right. This chick'll avenge me."

     You do a double-take. "Wha-HUH?"

     Nanu shrugs. “Sure."

     Egging you on, she continues: “Come ON, you did it before, so it’s not too hard to do it again, right?!” 

     “I-I can’t!!!” You dig your heels in. “Why me, anyway?!”

     (Looking now at the Veteran slumped over on the floor, you don’t really think that’s a great idea.)

     “Why not?” she retorts. “If I punched him in the face, you bet your ass that I’d have a one-way ticket to jail for assaulting a cop.”

     “Hmph. You’d be charged with battery*, not assault, considering the fact that you’re not exactly making me fear for my life, here...”

     Plumeria’s scowl deepens, and she raises her fist. “You KNOW what, screw not going to jail—“

     How’d this happen, anyway? You lean forward. "Wait, I think the kahuna’s actually hurt—“

    “He’s a tough old dog,” she retorts. “Probably had it coming!”

     ”Don’t like dogs,” he reminds her, and she scoffs again.

     “Wait, I think he’s hurt.” You gesture to the man on the floor. “And that Veteran is hurt, too. We should get someone to see both of you. How did he get hurt? Is he okay?”

     “Oh, he’s fine,” he scoffs. “What's with this sudden softness?" Nanu now asks you. "Should be happy, kid. Now I’ve got a mark to match the one you gave me only a couple of days ago."

     "?!"

      _Jerk._ You shake your head. “Still... Are you okay?”

    Nonplussed, the older man asks, “What... This? Just a cat scratch. Nothing compared to what a little girl gave me a couple of days ago.”

    Apparently having some time to cool down, Plumeria then says: “Honestly, it’s not worth the effort.” She hisses out a breath. “Listen, old dude. You owe me.”

     He rolls his eyes at the younger woman. “Whatever you say, missy.”

Amidst their arguing, you look at the unconscious Veteran on the floor, you notice that he looked a great deal stronger and bigger than you... How’d he even get hurt? 

     Why’d he let you...?

"All this noise is tiring me out." he now grumbles. "If you’re not gonna follow up on your threat, I’m gonna feed my cats and head to bed.”

     "Wait, I'm not done!" Plumeria yells in protest. "Get back here! I wanna know the whole story!"

 

* * *

 

     The following morning, Po Town‘s only set upon with a light drizzling of rain, so you count yourself lucky for the unexpected blessing. And considering the small army at your disposal, you would need as many small blessings as you could get.

     (Technically, it was more at Plumeria’s disposal, despite the young woman’s insistence to the contrary, but that was neither here nor there.)

     In the center of the town, Plumeria, the group of Punk People, and you, all assemble in the town square.

     Planting the shovel firmly into the loamy soil, Plumeria announces: “Since we’re gonna be living here from now on, and we don’t have the excuse of belongin’ to Team Skull anymore... we have to show some pride in the place where we live!”

     She puts her arm around a familiar-looking young man’s shoulder. “So, I enlisted reinforcements!”

     “Hello, everyone,” Molayne says, raising one of his hands sheepishly and scratching his dusty blonde hair with the other. “I look forward to working with all of you.”

     You blink. ”Molayne? You aren’t busy?”

     “Hey, Champ,” he raises his eyebrows, evidently not noticing that you had been in front of him this entire time. “Ah, don’t worry about that. I’m doing a favor for a friend, and I’d feel horrible if I couldn’t do this for him.” He looks off to his side. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t call you Champ anymore. Are you okay with that?”

     “It’s okay,” you say. “Call me whatever you want.”

     Interrupting the two of you, Plumeria pulls another man in front of the crowd of people. “And also this guy,” she yanks Officer Nanu forward by his shirt collar, and he scowls. “Come on, old dude, you owe me—“

     Officer Nanu looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here— but judging that it was almost 7 AM in the morning, you couldn’t fault him for being at least a little cranky.

     “So, boys and girls.” Nanu sighs. “It’s come to my attention that you folks aren’t just playing house. If you wanna do this reconstruction seriously— you gotta do this by the book, no breaking the law.”

     The crowd of Punk Guys and Girls eye him apprehensively, but exempting a few murmurs from the crowd, say nothing.

     He also now turns his attention to you. “When’re you gonna reopen Po Town to the public? If you’re gonna send those folks a message, then the grand opening’s gotta be a big production.”

     That’s a good point... If you wanted to put Po Town on the map, the grand opening of the town would have to be something that could grab the whole of Alola’s attention. 

     Turning to you, Molayne offers: “Well, there’s going to be a big event on Ula’ula and Akala Islands for the Alolan Ocean Arts Festival. Many locals and tourists flock to the islands during this time, so it’ll be a good idea to get some exposure for Po Town. It’ll be in about a few weeks or so,” he explains further. “So you’ll have enough time to prepare the town for that.”

     “So, where’d you leave off? I can’t wait to show those bastards what we’re all about!”

      _Where we left off... oh right!_  You smile, and put your hands on your hips. “Well, what’s a town without a Pokémon Center?”

     “You hear that?!” She shouts. “We gotta get to work!”

   Walking into the brightly illuminated Pokémon Center, you ask, “So... we need people to staff the Pokémon Center, in order to keep it running. Do any of you know how to run a Pokémon Center?"

     “Sure,” one of them says. “Like heal Pokémon, and all that?”

     “Mm-hmm.”

     “Okay!” You ball your hands into determined fists. See? You’re getting off on the right foot already- things are definitely looking up. “Give me your best shot!”

     He saunters in. “Hey, we’ll heal your Pokémon, punk, as long as you pay us 10,000 PokéDollars—“

     “No! No.” you vehemently shake your head. “That’s not right.”

     “What’s wrong with what we said?”

     You shake your head wildly. "N-no! I mean, it’s great. The delivery was really, really nice. But I was, um—“

     “She means,” Nanu glares at him, “without shaking folks down for money."

     Confused, he adjusts his bandana and scratches his cheek. “Why wouldn't we do that?"

     Thanking whatever was out there for Nanu’s presence, you now shake your head. “People are going to come here to heal their Pokémon, so you can't just charge for healing them..."

     “Why not?”

     “Because you want them to come here and tell their friends.”

     The Punk Guy raises an eyebrow. “So it's like for exposure? That’s it? We don’t get anything outta it?”

     "Yes!” you say, then realize that doesn’t sound quite right, and quickly stammer, “Wait. No."

     “What I mean is..." you say. “It would discourage people from using the Pokémon Center here if they were charged for using a service that's free on other places on the island."

     One of them offers, “Hey, if we ran this place, we could treat people like us, too... right?”

     “Of course,” you say. “Anyone who came here could get medical care if they needed it!”

     THe Punk Guy who spoke shoots his companion a look. “Boss’s sick. He could get a lotta help here!”

     His friend mutters back, “Shit, did Guzma get worse? What happened? Is it bad?”

     “I-I don’t know man,” he says under his breath. “He just came down with something or another....”

      _What? Guzma’s sick? How?_

     One of the Punk Girls shoves him angrily. “Didn’t you hear Boss?! We weren’t supposed ta say nothin’, to nobody!” She points to you. “Why’d you say anything to her, anyway?”

     They're strangely cagey about this information... But judging from their uncharacteristically grave expressions, you don’t think it’s any ordinary illness.

     “Hey, if we knew how to operate this place, we could help Boss out!” A Punk Guy fires back at her.

     “It isn’t,” she retorts, “any of her business!”

     “He's sick!” one of them finally calls out. “Boss's sick, okay?! And he isn’t getting any better!”

     Quickly stepping in, Molayne offers, “We can help him if we have people staffing the Pokémon Center. It’s not a lot, but there will be professionals who can help...”

     “Enough of this! It’s okay that she knows because she’s one of us!” Plumeria snaps. “Listen, Guzma’s not here right now. And that stubborn asshole needs our help!”

     “Ever since he got back from that weird place,” she mutters, “He’s been getting sicker, and sicker, and sicker...” 

     Clenching her fist, Plumeria shouts: “And I don’t know why he won’t let us help him!”

     “Yeah, it’s spooking us out!”

 “So, let’s try again.” You say slowly, and calmly. “If it’s to help your boss out, I’m sure we can find a way to do it.”

     After a few attempts of trying to teach the Punk Guys’ how to manage a Pokémon Center, Nanu pulls you over. “Look. I can handle this.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Give me a couple of hours and they’ll be running the place like they were born knowing how to.”

     You shake your head. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to be a burden.”

 “I mean it. Your time’s better spent someplace else.” He shrugs. ”Getting folks to follow orders isn’t too hard. All in the delivery.”

     “Are you sure? You weren’t too nice to me, when you were teaching me how to use the Dark-Type Z-move...”

     “Aspears and Orans.” he shows you his teeth, they’re dazzlingly pearl-white. “Trust me. Might get you somewhere.”

     Grateful for his help, you say, “Okay, I’ll leave that up to you.”

     As you leave, you remember that Looker had mentioned offhand that Nanu had not been particularly nice to his pupils, and inwardly hope that time had mellowed him out a little with age. 

     Your hopes aren’t too high.

 

* * *

  
      Halfway through hammering a plank of wood, a couple of hours later, you glance up at the sky. The drizzle from this morning hasn’t lessened, as it falls down and pelts your face.

     You’ve been getting to work replacing the worn-out boards from some of the houses, and it‘s going pretty well. 

     Wiping sweat from her brow, Plumeria grins at you. “Hey, this ain’t bad! We’ll definitely get this done in time for that stupid festival. All of the houses should be done in a couple of weeks, no problem.”

     “Are you okay?” she motions to your bandaged arm. “You know, we can rest.”

     “I’m okay.”

     You swear you could hear a branch snap in the distance, but shrug it off. You’re probably just hearing things.

     A few minutes after that, however, the young woman beside you stops working. "I don't know why that old dude won't just come over and help," Plumeria mutters. Quick as lightning, she picks up a crushed Soda Pop can and chucks it at a tree in the distance. "Hey, old dude! Stop staring at that _wahine_ like a creep and help us out, you hear?!"

     Emerging out of the shadows, Officer Nanu casually leans against a post, crossing one of his legs nonchalantly over the other. “Seems like you've got it under control, missy. What'd you need this wretch for?"

     You’re almost afraid to ask, but you smile, and say anyway: “How’d training for the Pokémon Center go? Are you all done?”

     He grins, and you gulp inwardly. “Hmph. Not too bad. Sure, there were some kinks to work out with those folks, but they got the drill. May be some sore backs amongst the lot of them.”

      _Just how in the world do you even get a sore back from managing a Pokémon Center?_ Gulp. You would have to check on them later. Just to make sure that the sore backs was the complaints of cantankerous Punk People, and not... well, whatever kind of training he had in mind.

     Cutting in between the two of you, Plumeria shouts, "Hey! What I was trying to say is— two cute girls like us really'd 'preciate if a big, brawny man like you could help us out..." she bats her thick, mascara-laden eyelashes at Nanu coquettishly. She then winks at you. “Right?”

     Plumeria now elbows you for emphasis. _“Right?”_

     As much as you’d like to emphatically agree with her(the intimidating look on her face notwithstanding), Plumeria was talking about Officer Nanu, right? Not Professor Kukui, with his suntanned brawn, or Team Skull Boss Guzma, with his way-too-macho-for-you swagger, but Nanu. Kahuna Nanu, the ex-INTERPOL field agent who complained how about being outside “wore him out”, how things were more trouble than they were worth, who had mentioned his position as Island KAHUNA as an afterthought, who looked like if the scorching Alolan sun had touched even a cell on his body, he’d get a killer sunburn?

     Was big and buff. Uh-huh. Nope. You aren’t buying whatever this fishy situation is. He was strong, sure. But brawny he most certainly was not.

     The most you can muster is a feeble, “S-sure...?”

     Apparently thinking something along the same lines, Nanu scoffs, or laughs, or some hybrid of the two. "Need to get your eyes checked, missy. Don't see any brawny fellows around here for miles...."  
  
     “Besides, missy—“ The older man pretends to scan his surroundings. “Only see one cute girl here, anyhow.” He then smirks. 

     Faced with the utter absurdity of this situation, you bust out laughing, clutching your sides.

     Plumeria’s eyes widen to the size of dish plates, and she scoffs indignantly:  
“And you're no looker yourself, old dude!" She then huffs, and elbows you in the ribs. "And WHAT made you think he was talking bout you anyways?!"

    “You’re really cruising for a bruising, aren’t you, old dude?!” she exclaims. “Maybe I should get that chick to beat you up! You’re too embarrassed to admit you got punched in the face, anyway—“

     “Sure, why not.” he grins at you.  “Give me your best shot, girl.”

      _Wait._ “You never answered my question. What happened to that Veteran?”

     Nanu shrugs, stretches his legs in languid motions that betray his carelessness. “Dunno. Must’ve tripped and hit his shoulder on something.” He smirks. “Why? Getting second thoughts?”

     Plumeria mock gags, and stops you. (You’re secretly relieved.) "Wait. Don't do it- what if he's _into that_ or something?" She then shudders, and glares at Nanu. "I won't give this old dude the _satisfaction."_

     “That's too bad, getting beat by two cute girls doesn't sound too bad to me..." He grins, but the older man’s expression ends up looking more like a sneer rather than an actual genuine smile. “Isn’t that what you said, missy? There, I’m admitting it.”

     “Not like that!” she snaps.

     “Can’t have it both ways...” Nanu sighs. He blinks his left eye quickly at you, then turns and walks away. “Anyway, looks like you two have it under control. Don’t need some wretch like me holding you down.”

     Did he just wink at you?

     Did he actually-

    _“You know, that scowl's pretty cute on your face.”_

    Standing up, you open your mouth to speak. “You’re... not holding us down. Thank you again,” you call out after him. “I really mean it! Thanks. I bet they’re doing a great job at the Pokémon Center now, because of you.”

    You swear you could hear the Kahuna  take in an imperceptibly small breath of air. Stopping in his tracks, he does an about face, and motions to your arm. “Don’t put too much pressure on that arm, girl. Won’t heal properly if you do.” 

     You find yourself nodding, and he walks away from the both of you. Feeling your face flush with heat (probably due to all the blood rushing to your head at once), you begin to furiously hammer away at the plank of wood. An odd feeling, one that hasn’t made itself apparent in a while. 

     “What a weirdo,” Plumeria now mutters. Aggravated, Plumeria blows up a tuft of hair that had come loose from her bandana. "Honestly..." she sighs to herself, then looks at your flushed pink cheeks. "Hey, _wahine,_ what's with your face?"

     "N-Nothing," you say, vehemently shaking your head, and head back to work, and hope that the flush on your cheeks hasn’t become too apparent on your face.

 

* * *

 

     After running various errands around town, you’re called to the site of the mural what used to be the imposing gray barrier between Po Town and the world, and decide to bring along the spray paint that you had purchased from the Thrifty Megamart with you.

     Plumeria turns around and says, “Yo,” she beams, and gestures to the mural. “Check it out. Doesn’t it look cool?”

Even unfinished, the mural’s beautiful. A multitude of colors are displayed on the wall, detailing several Punk Guys and Girls’ playing with their Pokémon. The scenery isn’t just limited to the town, but details a sandy beach as well. A familiar young woman is playing with hers as well, her multi-colored pigtails look to be swaying in the breeze. 

You nod your head emphatically and smile. “Very cool.”

     “Yeah, well, it’s not finished yet. We’re gonna have to put more people on it. I already got that old dude Molayne to draw a couple of Pokémon on it, but you gotta get that Kahuna to paint something on it! And when Guzma gets better, he’ll have to put something on here, too.”

     Returning her eyes to her painting, she then says: "Can we talk?"

     "Sure,” you say, picking up a paintbrush. “Can I help?”

     She nods.

     After easing into a steady state of just painting in silence, she takes a breath inward and speaks. “You’ll put something on here too, right? Like, draw yourself and your friends or whatever.”

     “I don’t know if I can...” You smile wistfully. “It’s your mural, not mine. I’m happy to add detail to the painting.”

     “Why not?” she demands. “Listen! You can’t just be the window dressing in somebody else’s life— I _told_ you that you were one of us, and I meant it!”

     "And listen... I'm sorry, chick. For snapping at you yesterday. It's just..." Plumeria sighs. "I've been looked down on my entire life."

     "All of us have. Because none of us’ve got a real family. " Her eyes focus on the paint slathered all over on the concrete wall. She then laughs a little derisively to herself. "I thought that by joining Team Skull, we'd have a family. I'D have a real family. I tried to be the person that my parents couldn't be to me."

     "We've always been told we're no good, because of some bullcrap, like where we came from, who our parents are, yadda, yadda." she says. "I thought you were just like all those other guys, trying to take pity on us, give us a couple of scraps here and there..."

     "And I overreacted." She pauses, then looks upward. "But you're the real deal. A true-blue heroine. How about that? You even bought the spray paints..."

     She then remarks, "That professor really knows how to pick em, huh?"

     "Huh?"

     With a flippant wave of her hand, Plumeria points out, "You know, Professor Kukui. How he gave you a Pokémon and crap."

     Your eyebrows furrow. "Doesn't _everyone_ get a Pokémon?"

     "Ha! You're really funny, heroine. Course not." The young woman flicks her wrist and redefines the lines on the pavement that had been smeared only a day ago. "I didn't get one. Guzma didn't. Only a couple few are chosen by the Kahuna to get Pokémon like yours."  
Plumeria then shakes her head. "Never mind. I just thought it was funny that he picked you out of all those people."

     You shrug, push those feelings that still radiated pain to the back of your mind. "Maybe it was just a coincidence."

     Plumeria says, "I dunno 'bout that. Seems like a pretty lucky guess to me."

     "Hey." She then gives you a pointed look. "Don't mind that old fart."

     "What?" you say.

     "You know, that cop, Nanu." Elaborating further on her point, Plumeria takes out a matte black tube of lipstick and fills in her lips with a thin coat of pigment. She smacks her lips together to even out the color, then looks at you. "He's like me, in a weird way. Says whatever the hell he feels like to push your buttons, but doesn't really mean it. Old dude's just saying it to get a rise out of you."

     You nod. "Okay."

     "And I hate cops. I really do, wahine. But that old dude Nanu is aight."

     "Oh, dammit," she suddenly swears. "I knew he was right."

     "What's that?"

     "I wouldn't have ever come if that old dude hadn't told me." She kicks a now-empty paint can in frustration. "Screw him, I hate when he's right about things! Old dude gets such a SMUG smirk on his stupid face. They couldn't have picked a different parole officer for me or something..."

     "Wait. Nanu..." you say.

_...told you to come?_

     Plumeria blinks. “Didn’t you get what that whole fight was about?” The young woman then says flippantly, "Yeah, well,  he told me not to mention anything to you, too. Screw him. He's not the boss of me. Even if he did give me this Z-Ring.”

     You blurt out, "He told me that it wasn't originally his idea to give you the Z-Ring."

     "What? That's so weird." She blinks, baffled. "So freaking weird..." Plumeria mutters.

     She's silent, and resumes her painting of the wall. "Hey. Why did you come to this place, anyway?"

     "Originally, I..." You pick up a paintbrush and start swirling a pattern into the ocean underneath the water Pokémon. "I thought that I would prove myself by taking this on as a pet project. I thought that I could do it as the Champion, and everyone would finally think I was worth something. That I could impress the person I liked, if I did everything by myself.”

     "I don't know, but..." you shake your head. “When I went to the Malie City Council, they originally didn’t want to help me out. Then they wanted to build a bunch of condominiums here."

     ”Holy crap.”

     "But... but I wouldn't let them." You smile widely at her. “And I was able to stand up to them, with all of your help.” 

     Laughing sheepishly, you admit: “That’s the whole story.”

     She’s silent, then says: 

     "All this time, we just gave you a hard time..." Plumeria balls up her hands into fists, her mouth is trembling. "...and for what...?”

     You shake your head. “It’s okay. Sometimes when people are upset, they say things they don’t mean so they can make people hurt the same way they do.”

    After a period where the two of you just paint in silence, the young woman then gets up and stretches. "Ah, man. You know something? I miss shooting the shit with my kids, mostly just bitching to them about some asshole who treated us like crap, you know, venting."

     "Do you really think...." she now looks at the incomplete mural on the wall. "...that a place like that can be worth something? All this freaking time, we just shrugged our shoulders and said that 'that's the way it is.' Can something like that really be helped...?"

     "That's how it is... if that's really true, then we should be making every effort to change how things are done. Because a world without hope..." you say softly.

     You catch sight of Nanu, and wave to him, smiling. He blinks. Cautiously raises a hand up in acknowledgement.

     "That's a world I wouldn't want to live in."

 

* * *

  
     Later that night, unbeknownst to most, a message shrouded in static echoes within a pitch-black room where the rain pounds on a windowsill unendingly. In that room, the faint shadow of a man hunched looms over the tiny silhouette of an old-fashioned telephone.

     You have one new message.

     A man’s hoarse voice with a certain gravitas, ruined from years of heavy tobacco use, resounds through the empty space. “You know, you'll-"

     -BZZT-

     "Have to pay those debts in, 000. That information is not without its own price."

     "Knowing about the Ultra Beasts, and that classified information about those politicians at that incompetent city council...  You have informants here, still, don’t you, 000?”

     "...Have you really put those days behind you? You, and that Faller, too..." the cruelly clipped tone says, the flippantly blasé tone in his voice no more different than if one were to speak of the weather, or last night's dinner. "The days you spent here made you cold. Isn't that the truth?"

     "Do you really think you can get past who you were? Filling your life with splendidly petty pet projects, like your insignificant town, and your incompetent police force, and your blissfully ignorant Alolan friends? Do you think that those inconsequential, mundane things will take up the empty space in your chest?"

     "Of course not. How could it? There's something so insincere about their naïve kindness. Nothing you fill your life with will ever free you from the man you were. That's why you excelled in your role here at INTERPOL. Because you knew what was necessary. Don't ever forget that only ten years ago—"

      _"You were willing to sacrifice that girl in the name of your own ambition."_

     "But... you always knew what needed to be done. It was a quality that made you so suited to your work. I know you will make the right decision and return. Because you'll always—"

     "Be."

     "One."

     "Of."

     "Us."

     "Do not let this girl now convince you of the existence of a softer world."

     "You will always be Agent 000. And no matter what mantle you've taken up, no matter whatever alias you adopt—“

_“—you will never escape the man you truly are."_

     As the sound of the abrupt click that signals the message's end resounds in the cramped police station, a certain man's breath temporarily...stops. Painful, haze-like static overwhelms his senses in that closed-in space. So much so that he even thinks his faint shadow has disappeared entirely from sight.

     Inside his suffocatingly confined world, however, the answering machine keeps droning on ceaselessly, unendingly.

      _You have reached the end of all recorded messages. To listen to this message again, please press one. To delete this message, please press two. For other options, please press—_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes:
> 
> *Nanu refers to Plumeria’s threat as battery, not assault, because the technically correct definition of battery and assault on criminal law are different from what they’re colloquially known as!
> 
> battery: involuntarily bringing about an unconsented harmful or offensive contact with a person or to something closely associated with them.
> 
> assault: placing someone in fear of imminent harm.


	13. Where the (Sun) Light Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The light shines brightly for those who open their eyes to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Happy holidays. I wanted to post one last update before the new year, as my gift to all of you! I’m thinking hat my new year’s resolution should be to update more frequently, but things don’t work out exactly the way you want them to sometimes... (_　_|||) 
> 
> Hope that all of your families and friends are doing well! As always, your comments and kudos are greatly appreciated- I’d love all the feedback I can get! 
> 
> In fact, I’m almost near tears... I can’t believe so many people actually listened to what I have to say! So thank you guys, so much!

     That same night, after everyone in the Po Town Pokemon Center is fast asleep, Plumeria creeps into the Po Town police station with a feeling of unease in her mind. 

     Rapping on his door, she mutters to herself:

      _Why’s it pitch black...? Crap, I can’t see anything in here!”_

     This feeling is not out of place, considering the station is completely dark, and quiet, save for the whirr of an playing answering machine. Slipping around a corner, she notices Nanu’s sitting at his desk, his back is slouched over. Several stacks of paper are neatly arranged on it, an oddity for the older man. His Persian’s by the side of the desk, sleeping peacefully.

     Nanu sighs, speaks into the darkness. “I know you’re here now, missy. You can stop lurking around...”

     Plumeria frowns. “Can you really blame me? The last thing I’d want to be is shot! 

     “Why’s it so dark in here?” she then asks. “You need to open a freaking light in here, old dude! You don’t have night vision, unlike some of your Pokémon,” the young woman motions to his Persian.

     “Might as well, considering how long I’ve spent in the dark...” he points out. “What’s up.”

     “So, you know we can’t live in the PMC forever... It’s too crowded. Me and that chick came up with a plan— we’re gonna start taking down the old houses and stuff.” she says. “And I don’t know why, but she wanted your opinion on the plan.”

     “It’s not like that’s my town. But if you’re asking for my opinion... It’ll be a lot of hassle. Fine if that’s what you want to do. It’s probably easier if you refurbish the places instead.” He raises the mug on his desk to his mouth, and takes a slow, steady gulp. “How is that girl?”

     Plumeria doesn’t miss the wobbling of  the cup he’s holding. “The Ex-Champ, you mean?”

     “Yeah, that’s right.”

     Still eyeing his shaky grip on the handle of the ceramic mug, Plumeria says, “She’s fast asleep right now.” With a wide grin, she then laughs, “But you should’ve seen her when she saw those punks in those nurse outfits—She looked so happy, thought she was gonna march right in here and plant one right on your kisser!”

     He rubs the soft fur on his Persian’s head. “Would that she would...”

     “What’s that?”

     He closes his eyes. “Don’t worry yourself about it.”

     Folding her arms across her chest, she thinks, and thinks to herself.

      _You know, something really stinks about this whole thing..._

     He turns back to his desk. “Look, missy—going through these files’s giving me a real headache... If you don’t need my input on anything else, I’m gonna head back to work.”

     “Hey. Old dude.” she whirls his chair  around. “You’re not off the hook yet.”

     He sighs. “I wondered when you’d finally get to the point... What’d you really come here to ask.”

     “You know what I don’t get? Why... would you even _care_ about that? You’re asking how she’s doing, but...” She crosses her arms across her chest. “...if you’re so worried about her, then why’d you lie?”

     Nanu doesn’t look up from the paperwork in his hands, he whistles through his teeth as he flips through more pages. “Gonna have to speak up, missy... Going deaf in my old age.”

     “Pfft, your playing stupid is really irritating, y’know that? Listen, it was your idea to give me this Z-Ring in the first place,” she snaps. Muttering to herself, the young woman continues: “She’s a good kid, that _wahine..._ So— why’d you lie to her?”

     “Hey.” Plumeria narrows her eyes at the older man. “Giving me the Z-Ring was originally your plan. Molayne just agreed with you."

     "...why'd you lie to her?"

     He’s silent.

     After a period of time passes in which it becomes abundantly clear that he won’t be answering her question, Plumeria continues: “Y’know, I always thought it was really weird, when some of the guys in Team Skull used to get locked up for stupid stuff...”

     “Petty offenses,” he mutters. “What about them?”

     “Yeah, that. I always thought something was pretty fishy, because those kids wouldn’t be that roughed up when they were arrested on Ula’ula,” she says, her eyes still fixed on his. “...one guy said that some old dude’d give them a warm place to sleep and hot food for the winter, and not ask questions... Even though they did something stupid and got themselves caught.”

     His eyes still focused on the pieces of paper in front of him, Nanu mutters, “It’s not like I’d know anything about that... Sounds like a soft fellow.” Rubbing his temples as his eyes scan the papers, he sighs, “Do they think I don’t check these... forging arrest records isn’t a good look...”

      _At least look at me when I’m talkin’ to you...!_ “Quit playing dumb! Listen, I said a lot of nice stuff about you,” she snaps. “And I didn’t need to.”

     “That’s your business,” the older man reminds her, not looking up from his work. “Can’t control that... Last I remember, the girl standing in front of me called me a bastard.”

     Exasperated, Plumeria yells, “Y’know, I wouldn’t call you a bastard if you weren’t so freaking insistent on acting like one!”

     Unfazed by her outburst, Nanu continues, “Who said that he’s not? Look, missy... That wretch’s still a bastard,” he scoffs, almost dragging his lazy red eyes to meet hers. “Most bastards’re capable of the occasional act of decency... Not like that’s uncommon, anyhow.”

     “What I’m trying to say, old dude, is that... You’re not as crappy,” Plumeria looks him dead in the eye. “as you want everyone to think you are. So why do you do stupid stuff like that?”  
  
     A period of silence follows their heated exchange. Officer Nanu then swivels his chair, turning away from her to refocus on the stack of paperwork on his desk, and reshuffles the papers. “Don’t need my permission to tear the houses down—that’s your town.... Do what you want. I’m keeping up appearances so you folks don’t get in trouble.”

      _Ugh!_ She whirls around the chair again so that he can face her. “Listen, If you don’t stop dodging the question, and give it to me straight, old dude, I’m gonna be pissed—“

     Without even a hint of a change in tone in his voice, Nanu remarks, “You mean you weren’t already.”

     “You little—! Why can’t you,” Plumeria’s scowl deepens. “understand that sometimes people just wanna help out from the bottom of their heart?!”

     “Question answers itself,” he retorts drily. “You’re smart, missy... Figure it out. Besides, didn’t exactly see you jumping to help out until I put my offer on the table,” the older man points out.

     “I,” she retorts, jabbing a finger into his chest, “didn’t know _anything_ about this until I heard about it on the mother freaking news!”

     Plumeria huffs exasperatedly, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Can’t believe I was gonna ask if... This’s like talkin’...”

     “Ask what?”

     “Nothing. Whatever!” She snaps, then nearly shouts, ”You know, this is worse than talking to Guzma! You guys are a buncha stubborn morons!!”

      THIS causes Nanu to raise his eyebrows. “Look here, missy... Putting me in the same category with that punk is a good goddamn way to make me upset.”

     “Men all act the same! What’s to be freakin’ upset about?! Too proud and stupid to admit when you’ve made a mistake,” she snaps. “I was gonna ask you if you were okay because you look all shaken up! Because I dunno if that creepy chick _who’s always following you around_ could take it if I had to tell her you went to the Pokémon Center!”

     “That little girl doesn’t need to know... Found me in a bad way the first time— she’s been put through enough.” He harrumphs, rapping the ceramic of his mug with his knuckle, then motioning to the canister of coffee on his desk. “Just the caffeine. Had too much before bed...”

     “Look, I appreciate the concern, missy,” Nanu sighs, scratching the back of the grey scruff on his head. “But it’s getting late... Go home. Just go.”

     “Fine.” Plumeria breathes out. “Honestly, I’m gonna get stress lines if I keep arguing with you like this, old dude. If you don’t really need me, I’m heading back to the PMC to get my beauty sleep.”

     “No one’s asking you to stay...” The older man scoffs. “Don’t let me stop you.”

     Turning away from him, she makes her way to the entrance of the police station. The silence that falls over the two of them is only punctuated by the sound of a scribbling pen on paper.

     Making a sudden about face, the sound of Plumeria’s heel slams on the floor; she turns to face the older man. And with a high, sharp pitch in her voice, the young woman says, her eyes flashing:

     “Y’know, you use sarcasm and act like an ass to shut people out.”

     “Yet you’re still here,” Nanu retorts, rubbing his temples exasperatedly. “Look... go _home,_ missy. It’s getting late... Your folks are probably missing you.”

     She scoffs, blowing up a tuft of hair that had come loose from her bandana. “Whatever...” Plumeria’s eyes darting from side to side at the ground, she mutters again to herself, “Whatever. Stubborn bastard. Not my freaking problem.”

      Standing in the doorway of the Po Town police station, the young woman idles there for only a moment. 

     Throwing caution to the wind, Plumeria then says in a low voice: “And you’re not gonna get away with it forever.”

     Spent, he responds:

     “...Worked well for me so far.”

     Hands falling to her sides as Plumeria simultaneously falls silent, she lets out one last exasperated sigh, and makes her way out of that cramped place. But...

     ...but it occurs to her that as she watches the older man from the cold, fogged-over glass windows of the police station, as she watches Nanu’s eyes trace the words on the paper in front of him, that... his hands were still shaking.

 

* * *

     Awakening with a start, you find yourself inside the Po Town Pokémon Center. 

     Tiptoeing around furtively, you peer around the dimly lit building. A distinct mist fogs up the glass windows, diffusing the  two people sleeping at the desk, dressed in nurse uniforms. lights are dimly lit, only provides a soft illumination to the building. everyone’s asleep...  

     You hadn’t meant to sleep in the building, but you had been so tired at the day’s end that you had fallen asleep. But it was okay, because it was only for a couple of minutes. Until a couple of minutes became a couple of hours, and a couple of hours became the entire night.

     Rubbing your eyes groggily, you head to the bathroom to freshen up. You undoubtably looked like a mess. 

     Before you enter the restroom, you look at the two Punk Guys sleeping peacefully at the healing station at the front of the Pokémon Center, and smile. That was a big step forward—now Pokémon trainers could stop by the town at least, and heal their Pokémon whilst on their journey.

     Yesterday, in fact, you had felt so happy you could jump for joy, even. Ha! Take that, stupid Malie City Council. You and your friends could tackle this, no problem.

    And that even included Officer Nanu.

    Because... he did great.

    Actually, he did better than great. You couldn’t even get the people at the healing station to cooperate without shaking you down for money, much less sticking them in nurse uniforms and having them act like Pokémon Center nurses.  

     In fact, you were so happy that even thought that for one fleeting moment, you could have ran straight to the Po Town police station, thrown your arms around Nanu’s shoulders, and planted a kiss on him.

     But you wisely decided against it. After all, there was no telling how Officer Nanu would react to being kissed, so...

     ...Well, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. It’s not like the Kahuna hated you. He bought you lunch, and he’s helping you fix up the Polémon Center now. He even stuck those Punk Guys in nurse outfits.

     That...and hecalled you cute.

_And he may have meant it._

     You rub your eyes groggily, and splash more cold water on your cheeks. _Stop thinking about weird things in the morning..._

     Mid-towel, you suddenly hear the grunts shout in unison outside: “WELCOME TO THE P-PO TOWN POKÉMON CENTER! HOW CAN W-WE HELP YOU AND YOUR POKÉMON TODAY?!”

     Startled, you duck your head outside.

     And discover they’re still asleep. But their lips tremble _eeeever_ so slightly as they snore. You breathe a sigh of relief.

     Maybe “scared straight” was a better way to put it, if they were shouting greetings to imaginary trainers in their sleep. Kissing the kahuna of Ula’ula Island was definitely out of the question.

      But the thought itself was scary. You haven’t thought about kissing someone since... well. 

     You shake your head once more and head back to the bathroom to splash even more water on your face. 

After emerging from the bathroom sopping wet and spending the next few minutes hunting for a towel, you suddenly remember to call your mom.  Given you haven’t called her since the incident with your RotomDex a few days ago, she was probably worried sick about you.

     Unfortunately, your RotomDex wouldn’t work for anything. You juggle the device in one hand and towel your head dry with the other, lost in thought trying to find a solution.

     You’re so focused on your circus act that you nearly bump into Molayne’s lanky figure.

      “Oh, sorry!” you gasp.

 _“_ No, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there, Champ...” He blinks. “Um... do you need a minute?”

      You stop toweling your hair. “Huh?”

      He laughs sheepishly, “You’re a little wet...”

 _Oh._ _Right._ Why would he ask something like that? It’s not like you didn’t look like a crazy person who just went swimming in Kala’e Bay, courtesy of totally-not-weird thoughts about the Kahuna of Ula’ula Island. That would be weird.

      Taking a seat, you sputter, “Actually, I’m fine! Really.”

“Okay...”Laughing, Molayne hands you a hot cup of Tapu Cocoa, then takes a seat next to you. “I’ll let you dry off. Are you all right?”

     “Huh? Me?” You ask. “Yeah, I’m fine.“

      _Minus the weird thoughts about Officer Nanu._

     “I just went a little wild washing my face,” you say, then clear your throat. “Why do you ask?”

     “Actually, I meant to ask you... Well, it’s been a couple of days since you’ve lost your Champion title... Soffy and I were wondering if you took the loss all right.”

 _Oh, that._ “It’s fine. But... now that you ask... it’s a weird feeling.” You look down. “All this time, I’ve felt the urge to be the best, to do everything I could to be the best Pokémon Trainer in Alola ... But I didn’t know why I was doing it. And now, I don’t know what to do or say...”

     “It’s kind of a freeing feeling.”

     “Ah, I see. I’m sure you’ll figure everything out. What are you up to now?” Molayne asks you now, gesturing to the device on your lap. 

     You look up from the RotomDex. “Oh, I was just trying... to make my RotomDex work.“

     “It doesn’t work?” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Doesn’t the Pokédex have a Rotom inside the device? My friend wouldn’t stop telling me all about his new invention when he made it!”

     Molayne then taps the display. “Hey, buddy. Are you all right?”

     The device isn’t turning on...

     The young man blinks, adjusts his glasses, and taps the blank display of your RotomDex once more. “That’s strange— it isn’t switching on... Did your Pokémon faint?”

     “I didn’t battle with it,” you say, shaking your head. In an admission of your guilt, you have to turn away from him. “I... It’s my fault. I yelled at my Pokémon and I... I made it run away.”

     “Ah, I see.”

     “It’s all my fault. I was mean, and it got angry at me.”

     “...I don’t think that your Pokémon’s angry at you, Champ. Pokémon usually  know that that their owners don’t mean what they say when they’re upset. But that’s strange that it’s disappeared—where would an Electric Ghost Pokémon go? Soffy would’ve told me something about a rogue Rotom flying about...”

     Molayne puts a finger to his chin thoughtfully.  “...Well, you could ask Acerola. She’s the expert on Ghost Pokémon here in Alola ever since her parents passed away... I’m sure that she would know what to do.”

     “Acerola? Isn’t she busy at the Elite Four?”

     Molayne then nods. “I believe so, but Soffy and her are good friends, and she mentioned taking a break the day after tomorrow for some reason. You could try and find her then.”

     You smile. “That sounds like a good idea—“

     At that very moment, Plumeria storms into the Po Town Pokémon Center,  bringing an abrupt end to your conversation. Her face is screwed up into a angry scowl.

     “Plumeria?” You stand up. “Are you okay?”

     “What does it look like?!” She snaps. “That old dude’s such a freakin’ headache! I feel like I’ve aged like 20 years in the past hour and a half....!”

      _Old dude? Does she mean..._

     As if to answer your question, the pair of nurse uniform-clad Punk Guys groggily manning the front desk chime in, “Hey, w-we can help! We can’t just let that cop push you around, Plum—“

     “Like you’d be able to help! He’d wipe the floor with your ass, even if it wasn’t a Pokémon battle...” she retorts, then nearly shouts, “Argh! That Kahuna on Akala should’ve just _blasted_ him to smithereens with her Z-Move* before when she had the chance!”

     “Can I help?” you offer.

     Shaking her head, Plumeria then mutters, “Ugh, it’s not your fault, wahine. I need to go to bed and get my beauty sleep and forget about all this.”

     “Oh, okay,” you say, feeling a little sorry for the young woman. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

     “Yeah...” Plumeria, muttering furiously to herself with two Punk Guys following behind shouting their condolences, then head over to the cafe section of the Pokémon Center.

     “Is she going to be okay?” You then whisper, turning to Molayne. 

     “She’ll be fine,” He whispers back. After exchanging glances with the young man, who chuckles a little to himself, Molayne then says, “But I-I don’t believe we should get in the way of Plumeria’s beauty rest. It’s very important to her....”

     It’s probably been ages since you’ve gotten any beauty sleep of your own, but you hardly think that it’d be put to good use, given that all you do is whack at two by four’s these days. “I think so, too.”

 

* * *

 

     The next morning, you and your crew get immediately to work, repainting and furnishing the insides of the houses on either sides of Po Town. Plumeria had pointed out to you only the day before: “We can’t sleep in the Pokémon Center for the rest of our lives. People haven’t lived in these houses for ages!”

     Packing the Pokémon Center with so many people had to be violating several building ordinances, so you definitely had to agree.

     Fortunately for you, you’ve discovered that most of the houses are unoccupied. Thin layers of dust coat the worn and chipped away paint on the walls.

     “Hey! We’ll take the roofs,” Plumeria calls out to you from atop a house. “You can get started with the insides.”

     Works for you.

     Plumeria and her companions taking the house above, they hammer away at the rafters with several types of Fighting type Pokémon.

     You peer inside one of the empty houses, and are surprised to find Officer Nanu at work, silently painting the walls with his Pokémon.

     “Can I help?”

     He grunts. “Can handle myself. Why don’t you run and work on something else.”

     Your eyebrows furrow. He’s in a curiously standoffish mood... “You know... If we do this together, it’s less work for the both of us.” You point out.

     After a period of silence, he turns away from you, and resumes painting.

     “Help if you want to or whatever.” He finally says, shaking his head. “But I work better by myself. Suits me just fine.”

     “Okay.” Still confused by his curt attitude, you put down your supplies, and join him in painting over the walls. It’s slow going at first, but you quickly discover that there’s more of a trick to painting than you first realized.

     Glancing over to the older man, you realize you’ve splattered paint on him by accident. Sighing exasperatedly, he reminds you to be more careful, then continues to brush paint on the walls.

     He couldn’t blame you—how’s black a good choice for a uniform color, anyhow? In Kanto, all of the police officers wore navy blue uniforms, which was certainly a better choice of color than just black.

     It just seemed... dreary. Not unlike the morose expression on his face now.

     Well, maybe... you could fix that. Smiling mischievously, you coat the ends of the bristles of a paintbrush with goopy white paint, and...

     Flick. 

     Flick-flick.

     Once he realizes what you’re spattering on his jacket, the older man’s eyebrows draw together.

     “Girl. What’re you doing...?”

     “I’m flicking paint on you.”

     “Why’s that.”

     “Because I’m upset,” you explain, “that some jerk ruined my friend’s beauty sleep yesterday.”

     “And what kind of guy would that jerk be, girl?”

     “Well, I’m flicking paint on his uniform right now, so you tell me.”

     He blinks. “After this wretch spent all afternoon yesterday forcing those punks into line, this is the thanks I get... You’re breaking my heart here, girl.”

     “Well,” you say, continuing to flick white flecks of paint on his shirt, “Plumeria’s my friend. And you made her upset. So I’m upset.”

     “And jerks like you,” you continue, “deserve a wardrobe change.”

     Nanu motions to his jacket. “Color suits me just fine. Why? Got a problem with black?”

     “I don’t know, your uniform is pretty dull. I mean, it’s all black.”

     He scoffs. “Your mouth to Ace’s ears... little girl’s always going on and on about changing my damn wardrobe. Were it up to her, the Alolan police’d be some nonsense like the Pretty Pink Princess Police.”

     Say that five times fast.

     “Can’t really be a policing agency worth a damn,” he mutters, spreading more paint on the wall, “decked out head to toe in pink and purples...”

     His unjust discrimination against the colors pink and purple aside, you ask, “Why not?”

     He gives you a droll look. “Girl, tell me you’d pull over for that.”

     The thought of Officer Nanu, classically blasé expression on his face and all, wearing hot fuchsia pink (or even better, in a tutu) while trying to write a parking ticket or put some unfortunate soul in handcuffs— is frankly ridiculous and giggle inducing at best.

     Doubling down on your compliment, you say, “I mean, I’d drop dead if I saw you in a dark alley.”

     He chuckles a little, despite himself. Score one for you. “Oh, yeah...?”

     “Yeah,” you say, leaning in. “Of laughter.”

     “Hmph... Figures.”

     “Actually,” you continue to flick paint onto his uniform. “I think this is a definite improvement.”

     Nanu’s eyes narrow. “Better not get any more paint on my uniform, girl.”

     You flick more paint onto the slate-black of his uniform. “And what’s-“ the slate-black of his jacket is gradually splattered with white specks. “-going to happen if I don’t?”

     His eyes narrow further. “...Then we’re gonna have a problem.”

     You then mischievously flick paint once more onto his uniform. “Whoops.”

     “That’s it... Now we’ve got a problem.” He stands up. “You want me to read Miranda to you, or do you get the drill?”

     Hunh? Read who now?

     “Judging by the blank stare on your face, I’m gonna guess you don’t...” He looks up and to the side. “Look, I’m only gonna say this once, because it’s a damn long speech and I can’t be bothered...”

     “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law... You have the right to an attorney, or whatever. If you can’t afford that, you’re SOL. But we’ll try our best to provide a real terrible one for you...” He then raises an eyebrow. “Understand the rights I just said to you, girl? That in mind, you still want to talk to me?”

     Wait. Minus the obviously improvised part of his speech... Did Nanu really memorize all of the Miranda warning? Most of the time, when you watched buddy cop shows or even crime dramas, the police officers would usually recite that speech from a card, wouldn’t they?

     And is he really planning on arresting you for spattering PAINT on him?!

     Best not to stick around and find out.

     But you couldn’t let Plumeria, lack of beauty sleep and all, go unavenged— something had to be done about this...  
  
     “Actually, I understand my rights completely,” you say, picking up a bucket of paint as quietly as you could, and holding it behind your back. “And, Officer Nanu, you’ll be happy to hear that I’m turning myself in.”

     “Huh, making things easy on me, girl? Would’ve never figured you had it in you... Put your hands up.”

     Evading his grasp, you suddenly throw the paint bucket on him, splattering his jacket once more with paint. “Okay, wardrobe change over! Personally, Kahuna, I think you look really handsome now—“

     “Don’t think,” After peeling off his jacket and throwing it to the side, he chases after you. “You’ll get away from me that easy... Flattery’s an additional 10 years on your sentence—“

     “I was being honest!” You protest, dodging him by ducking behind a dusty table. Suppressing a laugh, you then giggle, “But I’m so scared that Officer Fashion Paint Disaster is coming to arrest me. I can’t imagine what he’s going to do, repossess my pokéballs—“

     “What he’s gonna do is slap you with a damn fine for ruining one of the only good uniforms he has,” he growls, running around the couch’s length. “And charge you with assault AND battery.”

     “So you are,” you leap over the couch, stumble slightly over your own two feet. “scared for your life!”

     “Huh, maybe. That cross you threw,” He carelessly dodges the overturned bucket of paint on the ground; Nanu’s surprisingly agile despite appearances— “really threw me for a loop.”

     “But like I told you, I’m broke!” You laugh. “I can’t pay you...”

     “Garnish your wages, then.” He chases you, you jump over another paint can. “Can’t be broke forever, girl. Hardly squeezing blood from a stone here...”

     “Zero times zero is still zero,” you remind him, your heart leaps into your chest. “You can’t get something from nothing!”

     Your words echo off of the walls of the empty house. Almost possessed, the older man then suddenly and abruptly stops in his tracks.

     “Officer Nanu? Did I say something wrong—“ you say, taking a step towards him, but....

     But as luck would have it, your ankle takes an unfortunate twist on some of the spilled paint, causing you to promptly slip and fall flat on your back.

     The air knocked utterly and totally from your body, you groan on the hard, wood floor.

     He stands over you and... smirks.

     Yeah, he totally did that on purpose.

     You raise your hands above your head and feel that your hair is sticky from the overturned paint. You then breathe out, laughing. “Sorry! I guess you win!”

     After walking over to you, he kneels beside you. “I’ll take what I can get.”

     “Are you all right?” you ask. “You look like you’re happier now.”

     Nanu blinks, then shakes his head. “Honestly, you...” he turns your face with his left hand, his Z-Ring dangles from his forearm. “Asking me if I’m all right... Focus on yourself for a change, girl.”

     He examines your face. “Anyhow... You're lucky I'm not pressing charges." He stares you down, and a gleam appears in his maroon-red eyes.

     “Why’s that, Officer?”

     A self-deprecating smirk spreads across his face, and Nanu admits, "Hate to say it, but I wouldn’t want it to come out that  that some trainer got me good— my ego's more bruised than my face from being punched in the face by a girl... I'll let this go for now."

     “Don't get cocky, kid. The only reason I got hit was because you socked me with a Sucker Punch."  
  
     Then, he suddenly asks, looking down, “Better now?” 

     “Huh?”

     He glances over at his ruined jacket.

      _Oh. He means the uniform..._

     “I mean, you’re right— the black does suit you. I don’t think it looks bad.”  
“It’s just that,” You smile widely at him. “You weren’t smiling before, and you’re smiling now! That’s a big win, in my opinion. And I got to avenge Plumeria.”

     “Hmph. I guess you got me...” He says, then grins, pinching the fabric of his red shirt next to his chest. “Or not. Didn’t get any paint on this, you know. Better luck next time...”

     Just as you’re about to respond to him, the sounds of slightly elevated heels alert you to a particular Ex-Team Skull Admin’s presence.  
  
     “Hey, we finished retiling the roof!” Plumeria announces, spreading her arms wide. “You guys should come and take a look at it—“

     Then stops cold when she catches sight of the two of you lying flat of the paint-slick floor.

     Red-faced, and ever-so-slightly embarrassed from being caught on the ground with wet paint all over your back and hair and clothes and who knows where else, you stand up immediately.

     You then laugh, raise your shoulders bashfully. “Sorry, just fooling around!”  
Nanu gets up from his position on the floor as well, sighs and shakes his head.

      _Gotcha._  
  
     Smirking mischievously, you swipe some paint off of the small of your back, and—

     And slap a white, paint-covered hand on his maroon-red undershirt.

     Nanu blinks, then lets out a short, halting laugh. “Expect the dry-cleaning bill in the mail next week, kid.”

     A wide grin on your face, you say, “Understood.”

 

* * *

 

     The sun begins to sink in the horizon as construction wraps up for the day. 

     Idling by a freshly painted house, Officer Nanu leans against the edge of a brick wall, crossing one foot over the other. After giving the houses a cursory once-over, he sighs, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. 

     Huh. Looks like things would look halfway decent in this town before that festival.

     Plumeria’s sharp, high voice rings still in his ears.

_“....but you’re not gonna get away with it forever.”_

He then shoves his hands in his pockets and scoffs derisively. 

     Amongst the throng of people packing their things, he catches sight of the familiar silhouette of a young woman, her figure sways from side to side as she carries buckets of paint on both sides of her legs. Your eyes meet.

      _Just don’t know when to take a hint, huh...?_

      You say hurriedly, “I know you said to focus on myself for a change, but I’m almost done.”

     He, however, walks forward out of the shadows of the rafters to meet you.

     “Didn’t say anything about that.”

     You blink. “Then... did you wait for me?” 

     “Guess so... Now here I am.” Nanu shrugs. “Thought we’d all walk together... It’s not like it’s out of the way or whatever. Station’s on the way back.”

     That’s... a wretched lie, but you didn’t need to know that. 

     “Why?” he asks you now. “You want to do that? Come now, with me?”

     Your grip on the buckets of paint wobbles a tad. “I’d like to, but... I’m a little busy grabbing all of this.”

     “Hmph. Don’t mind if I get that, then.” He takes the bucket from you. 

     You smile gratefully at him. “Thanks for helping.”

     “Who said anything about helping you... I’ve got my own reasons, for doing what I do.” He smirks. “This’s so you’ve only got one bucket of paint to throw at me instead of two.”

     You laugh. “Okay. Everyone else should be finishing up, so we can walk a little ahead of them.”

     The sun sets ahead in the horizon, as the two of you amongst the crowd walk back to the Pokémon Center. As you walk through the length of the town, the content murmuring amongst the people following behind puts him at ease. 

     “We should go,” you then say softly to him, kicking rocks on the ground, “Someplace special when this is all over. To celebrate.”

     His eyes glance over to you. “Those folks over at Sushi High Roller aren’t too fussed whenever I head over there... Could give them a ring.”

     “I’d like that,” you say.

     “Oh, yeah! What _about_ that fancy place in Malie City?” one Punk Guy pipes up, apparently having overheard your conversation. “It’d be great, all of us heading over there!!”

      _Why can’t that boy keep his mouth out of my business...?_ Nanu then glares at the Punk in question, because he isn’t about to explain to him that the invitation only extended to one person. “Never mind.”

     Swiveling on your heel to face him, you say, “Why not? I think Sushi High Roller sounds great!” you laugh. "But... I don't know what's good on the menu, so you have to help me out."

     “Works for me.” he laughs, despite himself. “Hmph... Maybe I'll tell the chef to put Quilfish** on just your plate, then."

     "Quilfish? I...what?!” you protest indignantly. "You'd POISON me?!"

     "What can I say?" He smirks at you. "I'm a vindictive person. All that paint’s never gonna come off. Life insurance gives a definite payout— gotta collect my dues somehow...”

     “Okay, well—“ you grin mirthfully at him. “I’d just have to put some on your plate while you weren’t looking. Then we’d both be poisoned.”

     The older man smirks. “That’s more like it.”

     Plumeria now comes up from behind the two of you, and walks at the young woman’s side.

     “Oh, yeah.” She now pokes the young woman in the side, and gives her a knowing look. “Have fun?”

     Kicking some sand, the young woman replies: “Ha-ha, I was just getting him back for you!“ You flash him a meaningful look. “Right?”

      _Asking me of all people to be an accessory to a crime, girl? Hmph... that’s some nerve you’ve got. I’ll bite._

     “I guess...” He can’t help but grin. “She got me. This paint’s damn hard to wash out.”

     After looking at the two of you, Plumeria then raises an skeptical brow. “Whatever you guys say. ...I’m never gonna get those hours of sleep back.”

     You nudge him and mouth a _thank you._ He blinks his left eye quickly in response.

     Laughing genuinely in response, it occurs to him that...

     The radiant smile you offer him is like sunshine.

     Accompanied only by a pounding drum-beat in his ears. 

     Illuminated still by the brilliantly glittering sunlight cast by the setting sun, you walk ahead of him briefly.

     And as you again turn your head to smile again at him...

     ...the Faller's melancholy, sorrowful face gazes back at him. At the base of her head is a freshly wet, crimson-red depression. A trickle of tacky blood follows a path down the curve of her cheek as she continues to talk, unfazed.

     His pupils constrict, and a look of utter horror crosses his face.

      _No one's forgotten what you did, fool._

_Or who you really are._

     Concerned, you cease walking. "Officer Nanu? Are you okay?"

     His mouth is dry. Bone dry.

     The older man licks his lips, then pinches his arm willing himself to return to the present moment. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

     His fingernails pinch his arm so hard that they pierce skin.

      _Look. You’re here, now. Today’s a weekday, the date’s—_

     You slow your pace to match his own, and take his hand. “We can slow down... You worked really hard today—“

     He shakes off your hand. Then reiterates with a harsh tone: “Said I’m fine, kid.”

     You blink, hurt. “Okay.”

      _This is your fault..._

      _You know that, right, 000?_

_How can you think about something like that? You think a wretch like you even deserves to be happy?_

     “If this is about Sushi High Roller, I’m sorry.” you say softly. “Of course we’d all help pay. We were just joking around...”

     He looks down at his hand. Red pinpricks of blood stain his fingers.

     “It’s fine, girl.” Nanu says coldly. “Not like anyone’s asking or whatever.”

     Unhappy, you look down and say nothing.

      _You’re terrible..._   _Goddamn terrible._

     Even as Nanu spits out these cruel words at you, he can’t cast away the knife stabbing through his chest when he catches sight of your hurt face. Can’t forgive himself for chasing that sunshine smile away.

     Amidst the setting sun, looking at that young woman now, that man became aware of a similar warmth there in his chest, and...

     ...became frightened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes and Comments:
> 
> *Plumeria’s referring to an incident in the Pokémon Special manga where Nanu pokes fun at Olivia for not having a boyfriend, and she retaliates by using her Z-move against him. IIRC, loosely translated from the Japanese, he says, “All’s fair in love and war, but seeing as you don’t have experience with either...”
> 
> **Quilfish is roughly analogous to fugu, the Japanese pufferfish. It’s supposed to taste good if you prepare it properly, but it has a deadly poison called tetradotoxin in its spines and meat that causes immediate respiratory distress and failure. Sounds nasty.
> 
> Also, I may tag this work with some more mature content warnings, as we’re getting into more of the emotionally heavy (read: triggering) aspects of the story. Consider this as a warning for some of the upcoming chapters.


	14. Interlude 2: The Great Untruth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...you’re being killed by a futile love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. 
> 
> What’s this? An update that didn’t take a month?! Color me (ABSOL)lutely shocked! 
> 
> So, I’ve started playing US/UM, and it’s... yeah. I like being in Alola again, but I’m not a particularly big fan of what Game Freak did with the story, so we’ll just be continuing with our daily scheduled programming! (This is in no way meant to say that I am a better or even on par storyteller with the folks over at Game Freak/Nintendo. They own the franchise, not me, and I’m grateful for them giving me a big metaphorical sandbox to play in.)
> 
> As always, I’m so grateful for all of your comments and kudos! If you have any insights, musings, or even random shoutouts, I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

     For those who didn’t know,

     there are,

     60 seconds in one minute.

     1000 milliseconds in one second.

     60,000 milliseconds in one minute.

     So, logic follows that Nanu has stared stared at the clock in the Po Town police station now for 1.44 times 10 to the seventh power milliseconds, or four hours. As his eyes track the second hand on the clock, he wrings his hands, and heaves a sigh.

      _Haven’t had a terrible episode like that since..._

     He decides not to dwell on it further. It’s getting too late in the day.

     Going into the station’s bathroom now to wash his face, Nanu splashes his face with bracingly cold water, and shudders involuntarily.

     As the older man looks up at his dripping face in the mirror, behind him, 300ks says:

    _You know, I could love you._

     Seeing a vision of that girl’s dead-eyed stare, he swiftly brings his fist down on the mirror, and leaves a circular, shattered impact at its center. 

     Thin, needle-like tremors shoot through his hand, he clutches it in pain. Cursing himself, Nanu looks up at himself in the mirror.

     But there’s nobody there.

      _Look now... You’ve gone and broke the one thing that works worth a damn in this ruined place, fool._

     It is this preoccupation with counting that he keeps himself grounded, despite the pain that radiates through his hand and wrist. The Kahuna knows exactly the number of bottles in the bathroom cabinet, exactly the number of Meowth in his station, and now the exact number of shards of glass on the ground.

     Frantically, the kahuna continues to count down the seconds as he sits here with the broken glass of the mirror, cradling his bloody hand. There’s no shift beneath his wrist, nor the telltale aching grinding pain of bone rubbing against bone, so nothing’s broken or fractured.

     Undoubtably alerted to his distress,  Nanu’s Persian laps up the blood dripping from his hand, its head nuzzles and rubs against his legs.

     ”Sorry...” he sighs. “Still don’t know why you put up with a wretch like me.”

     That foolish dream too, was shattered like fragile glass on the ground, he stood still so he could preserve that love in his mind.

     Contrary to any prior expectations, the day that woman died, it was a heartachingly dazzling and sun-drenched day.

     Drinking coffee he didn’t even like to pass the time, 000 waited in that place, over and over and over until time stops. The sun relentlessly shone through the windows of the Pokémon Center. His eyes, however, are locked at his feet as he sits on a hard, wooden chair.

     He sobered up with the abrupt sound of shattered glass of hospital equipment.

     An orderly in front of him yelped, “Oh, can you believe me? I’m so sorry. I’ll get that cleaned up right away.”

     “Officer?” A soft, well-mannered voice said. “I’m so sorry about the ruckus...”

     The nurse who stood in front of him’s mouth forms into an easily molded smile, plasticky in nature. The nauseating smell of aerosolized cleaner wafted through the air.

     He looked up from his hands. They’re calloused and not much to speak of.

     The nurse bobbed her head. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Officer...”

     000 shook his head. “Agent.”

     “Agent...?” the woman then said. She meant for him to answer her question.

     “Name isn’t important.” _Never has been._

     Her brow drew together, but apparently judging it wise not to ask for elaboration, her body language opened up. “We did what we could, but...” the nurse sighed. “The body isn’t in good shape at all. It’ll be hard for the family to see her in this state.”

     “I’m aware.”

     “We’ll prepare for the wake, then?”

     They’ll want to preserve the body for the autopsy. “No... Contact the number 100kr gave you. Us folks over at INTERPOL will be in touch.”

     Yet he stared still at the broken glass on the floor. He was motionless.

     “I know this must be hard on you... The psychiatrist said you looked shaken when you arrived.”

     Almost too quickly, he said, “It’s not. That fellow took a vital check, I’m right as rain.” 000 looked away. “Came around because...”

    “You wanted to see her?” she asked softly. “It’s against policy, but... I can bring you inside quickly.”

    He nodded. And as 000 entered the room the Faller was kept in, and saw her figure there, he flinched. 

    Seeing her figure there, lying there on the bed, is almost too much to bear. Pulling the sheet back from her body,  he takes in the sight—that monster had chewed her up, spat her back out, her body is a mangled mess of blood, tissue and bone. Like someone had put her in a grinder, and had stopped short of her neck.

     Despite this gruesome sight... her face was untouched, save for a bloody depression in her skull.

     Her opaque, fish-eyed stare still sees into him.

     It was all too much to bear.

     Nearly bolting from the room, 000 headed outside the building. He then ducked behind a corner, taking out a lighter from his pocket.

     Dying his lungs charcoal-black, he coughed and heaved. Quickly, he went through entirety of the cigarette, but the flame puttered out. Wanting another, 000 reached for his lighter. The glint of the lighter’s flame seemed to appear for a brief moment, but they proved to only be ineffectual sparks.

     Fumbling with the device, the older man’s hands shook and trembled. He can’t get it to work. The lighter was out of fluid.

      _Can’t even get a smoke to keep myself warm, huh...?_

      _Can’t even get this damn wretched flame to ignite..._

_Work, you wretched piece of shit—_

     Catching sight of him outside now, that same nurse with her putty smile locked eyes with him. 

     “You shouldn’t do that you know,” she sighed, and for a moment, 000 thought he was in for a lecture about the evils of smoking, about how it’s so BAD for your health, will give you all sorts of horrible life-ruining diseases, rot away your teeth and burn your lungs to ash. And how he _wanted_  that— someone to defy him, someone who would bite back against the cruel words he cruelly spat out over and over and over again. 

     She shook her head, then pointed to the neon NO SMOKING sign. “At least 250 feet away from the Pokémon Center, please.”

     It’s a futile dream, but 000 wished that, sometimes. That someone would give him the reckoning he deserved.

     “Sorry...” 000 said simply, tapping the end of the cigarette; the ash falls to the ground. His heart is at his feet.

     It would have been fine if they had just stuck to the plan.

     That’s what he kept telling himself.

 

* * *

 

     “I’m sorry,” Kukui says again to his wife as she walks up the stairs of her parents’ house. 

     “It’s okay,” Burnet calls back, however, her voice is weary. “It’s okay, Kukui. Can you just... take a look at that magazine again, please? I don’t know what to say to my parents again if they ask—“

     “You got it, honey!” he smiles, the motion is like a rubber band being pulled taut. “I’ll be a total pro at family stuff when you wake up, yeah?”

     His wife gives him a wistful smile, then continues walking up the steps.

     He slouches in his chair. Illuminated now by the harsh light of his wife’s laboratory, Professor Kukui flips through the family planning magazine on his desk. He’s exhausted.

     Recently, to busy himself, he’s been teaching lectures in Unova, about Z-Moves— in lieu of the fact of his injury not allowing for him to do too much physical labor. Today, he had traveled to an Unovan university to teach the students about his findings.

     It had been great, initially. He had opened up the class with demonstrating a powerful Z-Move in the front of the lecture hall (nobody’s going to doze off or text with that shaking them up! he figured), and he was right—that had gotten everyone’s attention. 

     Until Kukui was reported to campus security. And brought to the University’s police department. And told off strictly that you can’t use potentially dangerous Pokémon attacks, _yes, even as a teaching aid, Professor, in a classroom environment. It could endanger the welfare of the students!_

He adjusts his glasses, lets out a weary sigh.

_Burnet even had to come down from work to explain to them that I’m not outta my mind..._

How embarrassing.

     “What good’s it if you can’t demonstrate what the moves look like for real? What a bummer, man. Geez.” Kukui breathes. Absentmindedly, he pinches the flab on his abdomen. “Can’t even train either...”

      _Man, you’re a mess._

     He had finished the class lecture by showing videos of the Z-moves in action, which definitely wasn’t as awesome as the real thing.

     However, it was evidently still enough not to bore some people to sleep, as a gaggle of students had followed him outside the classroom. “Professor! Professor Kukui!”

    He turned around. “What’s up, you guys?”

     One of them nearly shouted, “Is it true? That you founded the Pokémon League in Alola?”

     He grinned. “That’s right, cousin!”

     “Wow...” they murmured amongst themselves.

     A Schoolgirl from their group then stepped forward shyly. “Did... did you know the first Champion?”

     “Yeah...” Kukui said, quietly. Realizing that his suddenly morose demeanor might have been a little strange to them, the older man then laughed heartily, “Y-Yeah, I did! She was one of my students in Alola!”

     “She’s... so cool! I was watching footage of her old fights, and she’s so talented!”

     Kukui cleared his throat, then placed his hands on his hips. “Yeah, yeah, she definitely is!”

     “Hey...” An ace trainer then said to him, “The Pokémon League’s on top of a peak, right?”

     “That’s right— on the highest mountain in Alola, cousin!”

     The trainer then asked suddenly, “Weren’t you ever cold?”

     Kukui was brought out of himself.

_Aren’t you cold?_

 Kukui now shakes his head, the telltale click of the computer in front of him bringing him out of his thoughts. “Your call has been accepted,” the mechanical voice chirps. “Putting you through now...”

     -click- 

     “Yo. Ya boy Guzma here...” he rasps. He looks sick. His cheeks are sunken in,  and his face is drained of color.

     Upon realizing who had called him, Guzma’s face noticeably darkens into a deep scowl. “Kukui.”

     “Hey, Guzma.”

     A terse, heavy silence hangs over the two of them like the thickest of pea-soup fog.

     “What’s up?”

     “Nothin’. Chillin’ like a villain in my crib.”

     ”You moved outta Po Town, right? Where‘re you now?”

     Guzma shiftily moves in his seat. “Wherever.”

     Drumming his tawny fingertips on the counter, Kukui sighs, “C’mon, bruh... Are you still with your parents? You know they’re not gonna take care of you...”

     “I can do whatever I want, smell me? You’re not the boss of me, man.” Guzma then mutters, “...What’dya want, Kukui.”

     After a period, Kukui breathes out and attempts a smile. “Guzma. Can we just talk...?“

     “Dunno why you’d think I’d wanna do any dumb shit like that.”

     “Like old times, before all of this?”

      _Like when we... were friends?_

     From the softening in Guzma’s expression, Kukui thinks he is about to relent, but Guzma scoffs, “Whatever, man... Go talk to your best buddy Molayne. You’ve got better things to do than talk to a wash-up like me, y’know?Don’t you have _better friends_ now?”

     “I can’t really... talk about this with a lot of people.”

     “Whatever, man. Sounds like snoresville.” Guzma, however, leans forward. He’s gotten his attention. The white-haired man asks, gesturing to the magazine, “What’s on the cover?”

     Kukui flashes him the cover page of the magazine. _TIPS AND TRICKS ON HOW TO PREPARE FOR YOUR POST-MARRIAGE LIFE!_

     Guzma snickers. “Ya baby-proofing your pokeballs?”

     “Nah. The main article’s about how to keep pet Dedenne from draining power from electrical sockets.“ he says. “...Actually, that’s what... I wanted to talk about. About my... relationship, y’know?”

     After a long, long, long, LONG period of pea-soup silence, Guzma lets out a bitter, uproarious laugh, he BELLOWS with laughter.

     “Oh, THIS is rich! You’re callin’ me... cause you’re having not squeaky-clean thoughts about your relationship...? I-is that what you’re callin’ ‘bout, Kukui!?YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME LAUGH, BRAH!”

     This action, however, causes Guzma to go into violent fits of coughing, and he quickly stills his movement.

     “S-Shoe’s on the other foot now, huh?” he chortles weakly. “Guess the great Professor Kukui isn’t so great after all!”

     “Calling this guy for relationship advice....” he coughs into his cotton T-shirt again. “Guess you’ve really hit rock bottom!”

     “C’mon, Guzma... Don’t rub it in.” he sighs. “I’m calling you because I didn’t think you’d judge me, brah.”

     “Okay—no judgement, no judgement, man!” the man proudly puffs out his sunken chest. “I am pretty great, what can I say?! All the chicks flock to me!”

    After explaining the entirety of his situation to Guzma, Kukui concludes:

     “So long story short, she won’t talk to me at all now... And I can’t stop thinking about what happened.”

     Guzma cleans some dirt from underneath his fingernail. “So.. Maybe it’s a good thing.”

     “What’s that?”

     “Maybe it’s good that chick cut herself off from ya. ‘Sall I’m sayin’. “ His friend hacks and coughs. Sputum shot through with blood comes out of his mouth. 

     “You should get that checked out, cousin.”

     “What’s this, Kukui, talkin’ to me like we’re still best buds....” the young man mutters. “‘Sall good. I’m... Just kinda sick after the whole Ultra Space shit.” he mutters.

     “Still hate your guts.” Guzma scoffs. “Why’re ya talkin’ trash if you’re not looking too hot either, Kukui? You’re almost as white as me!”

     “Let’s just say that’s as a professional courtesy, yeah? If it makes you feel better about it, I haven’t been able to train much... and there’s not a lot of sun here, y’know?” 

     “But... why do you say that, Guzma? That it’s better this way? You can’t mean that, yeah?”

     Guzma folds his arms across his chest and says nothing. Reaching for another tissue, he blows his nose.

     “Hey, Kukui. ‘Member before... When I said I was gonna take away everything you loved....” he then wheezes. “Why’d you think I said I was gonna start with that _haole_ kid _?”_

     “If I remember it right, Guzma...” Kukui sighs, “You challenged her to a Pokémon battle, not me.”

     “Just answer the _fucking question_ , man! You’ve got that fancy doctorate or some shit... you’ve got two brain cells to rub together, not like ya boy here.”

     Kukui scratches his facial hair thoughtfully. “Actually, yeah. At the time, it... was a weird thing to single out.”

     “I dunno, man. Before... you were just so obsessed with your League, Kukui. And the way you looked at her made me think that she was somebody special to ya.” he says. “Not just some friend or student of yours. And from what I hear, that pretty assistant you’ve got was always sewin’ you up, makin’ you meals...”

     “If I got the wrong idea...” he coughs. “Imagine what other people are thinkin’. Half the time, I forget you’re even married, ya know?”

     Irritated, Kukui retorts, “I’m friendly to everyone, Guzma. Maybe you wouldn’t understand that.”

     Immediately knowing he’s said something he’ll regret, he blurts out in an apologetic tone, “Sorry, brah. That was a a low blow—“

     However, Guzma’s face scrunches up in a furious scowl.

      _“Fuck_ you, man. This’s why we ain’t tight no more.”

     “What I meant to say is, it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, we’re married... Professor Burnet... she’s the love of my life, man! Remember when I didn’t know how to confess to her that I liked her?”

     “You told that to that captain, Molayne—not ya boy here... Thought you met that chick in school.”

     “Right... sorry ‘bout that.”

    “Sounds like you’re just goin’ through the motions... Don’t think your wife’s missed it either.“ he says. “Also... Dunno if they teach you some weird-ass shit there in Unova, but nobody here calls their spouse Professor. Just sayin’.”

     Kukui frowns. “I call her honey too, Guzma.”

     Guzma scoffs. “Yeah, and half the time that _tita_ Plum says I’m not a _complete_ bum. Can’t blame Burnet for bustin’ your balls. Half the time you’re actin’ like a single guy, Kukui...”

     “That’s not true.”

     “Oh yeah? How many times have YOU gone with your wife to that place up in the mountains and blurted out all ya hopes and dreams? Sounds like shit straight outta the movies.”

     “I have! I’ve shown her and Molayne and everyone so many times.” he protests. Kukui then scratches the back of his head and realizes his cornrows aren’t neatly braided. A few strands of hair have come loose from the braids, and frame his face, giving his reflection of his computer a tired, disheveled look. “But after a while, it just... it becomes old news, you know?”

     “So...”

     “...because that chick’s willing to give you the validation you want,” he says, “You’re gonna ruin your marriage?”

     “What...?”

     “Why’d you even think I listened to that crazy lady Lusamine?” Guzma snaps. “For real...! You didn’t think I thought she was seriously screwed up? That there wasn’t something _really freaky_ ‘bout her?”

     He lets out an audible sigh. “What’re you trying to say, Guzma.”

     “Kukui, what ya boy’s saying is,” Guzma sneers, “validation is a helluva drug.”

 

* * *

 

      _Just like you, I can only accept myself under the most specific of circumstances.  
_

     “You’ll be one of the best detectives, you know.” they had praised 000 endlessly. “You’re so clever, and hard-working. They’ll be speaking of you even ten years from now!”

     000 ought to have known that... the love they had shared would buckle under the immense weight of its suffering.

     Yet he had begged to be shown the sun, ignorant of the fact that he could not bear its radiant light.

     Yet the wistful smile that 300ks had flashed him as she pushed that fool out of the way of that monster... Was it out of pity? Or...

     No. It wasn’t anything else. He had accepted this fate, being a victim of this cruelly compassionate world before, because—

     “This is how the world works.”

     One night, late at work, the two of them find themselves alone. The building is simply lit, with only a few desk lamps turned on to illuminate their surroundings. 

     Leaning over his desk, 300ks asked, “So... what is the great Agent 000 up to, anyway? He’s always working so hard.”

     ”Working...” he muttered. “Always working, kid.”

     “Oh... your promotion’s coming up soon, right?” she asked. “You know, that’s who I want to be like someday. A first-class Agent of the International Police!”

     “Laying it on a little thick there, girl...” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

     “Nowhere but here,” she said. “I’m taking notes to be the best agent that INTERPOL has ever seen.”

     000 motioned to the stack of files looming over her desk. “Won’t do that by sitting there and looking pretty.”

     Despite his harsh words, 300ks leaned in and...

     ...and laughed, as if he had said something funny.

     “You know, I could love you.” she said, laughing frivolously and planting a fresh kiss on his cheek. “Maybe.”

     “If you keep calling me pretty, and give me pointers on how to be a great detective, that is.” 

     He blinked, and said, “We’ll see,” then returned to his work. His cheek, however, burned with a distinct heat.

     Her feather-like touch was like rain.

     There she was.

     And there she wasn’t.

     And those three words that have met an end ring in his ears again.

      _I love you._

      _I love you, and yet..._

     To be strong... that’s what it took, sacrificing anything and everything in the name of your dreams. Even as a feeling that went unsaid pounded in his chest.

     After wrapping up his hand, Nanu cleans up the mess in the bathroom—taping together the mirror, scrubbing away the blood that had dripped on the floor. He then lies on the couch and drapes a blanket over the armrest.

      _Might as well get some shuteye..._  
  
     He had once thought that if these were memories that would never leave him, he would be at peace. If he always remembered that laugh, that warmth, he would be able to someday atone for what he’s done.

     But instead, they torment him still, as Nanu sleeps one more night, body wedged between the sheets and the flimsy couch cushions.

 

* * *

  
  
     “What...?” Kukui says, again.

     “Not like I cared much, but. After you said my dreams were _lolo,_ well, someone had to support ya boy here. Someone on these freakin’ islands made me feel like I wasn’t a piece of garbage...”

     Kukui retorts incredulously, “You’ve hurt _innocent people,_ Guzma. Don’t act like you can compare our situations...”

     Guzma fiercely presses his face to the computer display, his cheek smushes up against the glass. Kukui knows that had there not been a computer screen separating the two, he would be all up in his face right about now. _“Yeah?_ And if Burnet knew you were thinkin’ about some other chick, betcha that’d hurt her too, wouldn’t it?”

     “Don’t talk,” he grits his teeth. ”about my relationship with my wife that way. Y‘know I’d never do anything to hurt her.”

     “Which is why we’re talkin’ story?”

     “I’m not asking you to help me like THAT, cousin! I’m...”

     “Askin’ me to make you feel like your feelings are cool. There’s that validation shit again, man.” Guzma breathes. Wheezing out a laugh, he says shakily, “Eh, you could do worse! That kid gave up everything, to fix up that dump. Chasing after a _lost cause...”_

     He then busts out with laughter, interspersed with hacking coughs. “Guess you guys ARE meant for each other! You’re both selfless _morons...!”_

     Unfazed by his insult, Kukui says: “And that’s _exactly_ what I’m saying, yeah?”

     “I... I would’ve understood! If she told me everything was too much, or if being the first Champion was just too much work or responsibility... We’re still working things out. I didn’t know how things might have been different in other regions...”

     “I would’ve understood, if she told me that Po Town was that important to her, that she had to give up the Championship title... I would’ve told her, she didn’t have to go through it all alone!”

     “I did most of the set-up for the Pokémon League by myself... All of the paperwork, some of the logistics. Sure the island kahunas helped out some, but...” a hurt look crosses his face. “I would’ve helped her out, if she even... even whispered a word of it to me, yeah?”

     Guzma’s eyes now glance over to the man’s cast. “Bum leg and all?”

     Kukui sighs. “You’re right. I can’t really go do anything, yeah? How’s someone like me gonna help out a construction project, anyway...” He shakes his head, removes his glasses. “Besides... I... don’t think she wants me there.” 

     His expression is the equivalent of someone wringing out water entirely from a dishrag.

     “Whoa. Don’t explode on ya boy here...” Guzma says, shaking his head now. “Plum and a bunch of my boys say that she’s finally got the PMC working down there, so your champ’s doin’ fine. She one _kine_ cool _haole_ girl."

     “I... I knew she could do it,” he says, nodding now. “There wasn’t any doubt in my mind!”

     “...Wanna piece of advice?” Guzma says, reclining in his bed. “Man, if it’s just an itch that needs to be scratched... Just yell out that sappy shit you wanna say at the top of Mount Hokulani. No one’s gonna hear, anyway. It’d be good to get it off your chest.”

     He attempts a smile. “...Thanks, cousin. I missed when... we used to talk like this. Remember when we would down plates of _loco moco_ like nobody was watching?”

     Guzma grins despite himself. “Yo, the auntie running the Po Town PMC had to chase us out with a broom! Good shit, man.”

     “Oi, Kukui. You were one _kine moke,_ bruddah. You’d stay in them sweats and rubba slippahs, 24/7, 365 days a year!” Guzma then says, glaring at Kukui. ”You go letting those _haoles_ in Unova turn you into one of them, I’mma be real pissed with ya.”

     ”Nothin’ like that’s going to happen, brah. The pizza’s not that good! You get to that PMC ASAP.”

      And with a click, he’s by himself again.

     Alone, the older man again remembers the same gaggle of students that had followed him outside the classroom.

     “Weren’t you cold?” that one student had asked him, laughing as he mimed  Kukui’s lack of shirt. “Doesn’t it snow on the mountaintop?”

     Leaning forward on your toes, you smile at him. He shivers involuntarily.

    _“Aren’t you cold?”_

     And in the lab, just to himself, very quietly, Kukui chokes out:

     “...yeah, I...”

     “...I think I am.”

 

* * *

 

     Even as those three words went unsaid for so long, the rain continues outside his window, and Nanu tries to just shut ‘himself’ out.

     One of the days he had first arrived in Alola, he had communicated with his former superior remotely via video chat.

     The older man asks:

     “Your resignation papers are here...?”

     The medals on his chest looked now like shiny, trifling baubles, the sort a murkrow decorated its nest with.

     That wretch was a fool.

     “Every damn t’s crossed and every wretched i’s dotted...” Nanu said. “Wasn’t aware you folks needed clarification.”

     Once before, when he was a child, a Meowth had meowed at him; he had scoffed and turned his back on it.

     It was run over by a car.

     His shoes were stained with its blood.

     “Listen— this is only a minor setback, at the very most. Yes, you’ll have to be demoted, but you can always make your way back up the ranks again. The International Police... they are even thinking that we might use your example as a model, 000. Think of all of the possibilities.”

     Some stains just don’t come out.

     Nanu sighed. “You won’t listen to my warnings, I don’t want anything more to do with this... Have fun with more dead folks on your conscience.”

     “There is so much untold potential in this! _Think of just how many more Fallers there are out there!_ 000—“

     He doesn’t _want_ to think about it. “Stop it. Just stop it.”

     “000, wait. 000—“ The older man said once more, but Nanu cut him off with:

     “That’s not my name.”

     The dead, dull tone of the receiver rung out.

     And the legacy that a fool built crumbled away to ash.

     Returning to the present, he’s unable to sleep. Beneath his flimsy, threadbare red shirt, a hole opened up in his chest again. Nanu rolls over onto his back, traces the circular depression in his chest.

      _Can’t even... can’t even do that right, can you?_

     The couch cushions are hard and uncomfortable beneath the curvature of his back. He adjusts himself, pulls the thin blanket over his body.

     0:00, reads the glaring neon-red LED display on his nightstand. He tightly shuts his eyes.

     It’s the Ula’ula kahuna’s birthday, today.

     But there’s absolutely nothing to celebrate.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes and Comments:
> 
> I actually didn’t put the stars to denote footnotes in this chapter because of it being too distracting! Kukui and Guzma’s conversation was riddled with stars because of their pidgin...
> 
> Also, for those who haven’t played/it’s been a while since Black and White, Unova is based on NYC. That’s why Kukui makes a comment about the “pizza not being that good.” Which is a lie, by the way. NYC pizza is great. 
> 
> Alolan Pidgin Glossary and Terms
> 
> lolo: crazy; out there
> 
> talk story: to gossip; rekindle old times; talking with old friends; passing time by chit-chatting 
> 
> tita: an attitude or way of life where a local woman acts very rough or masculine. Pidgin is often her first language.
> 
> moke: an attitude or way of life where a hard core, local man often dresses in a cut T, surf shorts and old-fashioned slippers. Pidgin is often his first language, too!
> 
> kine: a replacement word that can have many meanings. most commonly used like "that thing" or "whatsit" or "thing-a-ma-jig". Guzma’s literally saying that he thinks you’re cool, and that Kukui was different when he was growing up.
> 
> haole: literally a “person without breath” aka foreigner. Understand that haole doesn’t have to be derogatory, it can also be used as a descriptive term. 
> 
> loco moco: a traditional Alolan dish consisting of white rice, topped with a hamburger patty, a fried egg, and brown gravy. It’s typically eaten as part of a plate lunch with mac salad, or at breakfast by itself.


	15. Malasada Holes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like the hole in a donut, your absence is the only thing that proves your existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> Uh, so much for that one chapter a month thing...? I’ve never been too good with new year resolutions, you see! orz;; I hope you guys can be patient with me as I churn these updates out— I really do try my best on each update, so please, stick with me!
> 
> I’m so, so proud that over 500 (?!) people have enjoyed the story so far! I can’t believe it, like honestly?! There are so many other stories on this website, and I’m so touched that many of you have expressed your love for this one.
> 
> Side note: This work’s part of a series— dope, right?! If hot older tortured Kalos (French) businessmen are up your alley, then you should totally check out Dépaysement! It’s only got one chapter so far, but I’m working on it? Haha.

     Bright and early the next morning, a young girl bounds up the steps of the Po Town police station.

     Acerola rings Nanu's bell about a dozen times before he answers. He's got his classically irritated expression, stained coffee mug in hand, and baggy police uniform on. His slacks are wrinkled from sleeping in them.

     “What's the matter, girl?" he asks. “Don't you know how to leave folks well enough alone..."

     "It's your birthday, Uncle Nanu!" Acerola laughs. “Time to get up!”

     Nanu rubs his eyes, one, two times, then promptly closes the door on Acerola when it’s clear the girl isn’t a figment of his imagination. "I'm sleeping.”

     Not to be deterred, Acerola then proceeds to ring the bell another half dozen times. “It's the morning of your birthday, Uncle Nanu! Don't you want to celebrate by catching no-good evildoers?!”

     “Aware of that...” she hears him sigh from behind the door. “Just... leave me be, kid.”

     “If you know... Why are you still sleeping, then?!" the young girl rings the bell in a rapid-fire motion. “Time-to-wake-up!”

     Abruptly, the older man swings open the door in a wide arc, and stares at her. Had it been anyone but Acerola, Nanu’s dead-eyed stare would have sent them screaming right to the next island over.

     "Kid," Uncle Nanu looks at her now as if that is an patently ridiculous question, then shakes his head. "You've rung my doorbell about 20 darn times in the past five minutes... Not even 6 in the AM yet. Let this old man get some sleep."  
He then closes the door with a firm click.

     “Uncle! UNCLE!” she shouts, ringing the doorbell again. The door doesn’t open.

     “Acerola... It's 6:30 in the AM.” The older man says from outside his door. “Only way I wanna celebrate today is resting a couple more hours before I head into the city... I'll be sleeping past 10.”

     She scoffs indignantly. “Oh, you— Hmph!”

     Acerola stomps her heel on the ground, and swears to herself that this won’t be the last he’d see of her this morning. Resolving to come back with some backup, she then takes her leave from the Po Town police station.

 

* * *

  
  
     “...Today’s the Kahuna’s birthday?” Unsure that you had heard Acerola properly amidst the lively chatter in the crowded malasada shop, you bite your bottom lip and shake your head, confused. “...I don’t remember Officer Nanu ever mentioning today was his birthday.”

     Fortunately— you don’t have to find Acerola the next day, because she ends up finding you.

     ”He NEVER does!!” the younger girl says with an exasperated huff. Leaning in so you can hear, she then whispers, “But this year, it’s going to be different. _We_ have to make it different!”

     “Me?” _Why? He didn’t look happy when we all talked about going to Sushi High Roller yesterday..._

     Acerola then nods emphatically. “Sure! You’ve gotten that numskull to get out of that creaky old police station, so you could definitely do this, right?“ she begs. “Please? I can definitely, definitely, definitely go and help you find your Rotom after!”

     You hesitate. The Kahuna didn’t seem like the type to want his business meddled into...

     But then again... hadn’t he extended the invitation to go to Sushi High Roller to you? And then, as if his mood had changed at the flick of a switch, Nanu had abruptly retracted it.

     And then there’s the entirely confusing thing Plumeria had told you...  
_He’s the one who told me to come in the first place!  
_

     You find yourself nodding. “Okay.” To be honest, there had to be a way to cheer the Kahuna up. And in the spirit of complete honesty, you were more than a little concerned about his behavior yesterday...

     “Yay! Thanks so much!” she cheers. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

     Acerola then giggles mischievously. “So, Po Town’s grand opening is during the same week of the Ocean Arts Festival? That’s really gutsy! Who are you going to dance with?”

     “That’s easy, I’ll...” your mouth moves faster than your brain, which results in your answer coming out more like a question. “...dance with anyone? Um... does it matter?”

     “Silly! Big sis, they never told you?” Leaning forward on her elbows, Acerola places her head in her palms. “The Ocean Arts Festival is a HUUUUUUGE deal here in Alola! Everyone on the islands is trying to find a dance partner for the festival!”

     “Huh, really?”

     “Yeah, and it’s super romantic!!” she squeals. “Every year, Wailord that were born here, on Alolan shores, come back to the place that they were born to find the whale they’re going to mate with for life! Kahuna Olivia always prepares a big celebration on Akala Island, because it’s supposed to be super lovey-dovey! But this year, I think that Ula’ula and Akala are working together because the whales are near the shore here...”

     “B-but! The week of the festival is so romantic...! If you dance on the evening of the festival with someone you really love, the Wailord will give you their blessing! It shows you’re soulmates...”

     As she sighs dreamily, you swear you could see stars in the younger girl’s eyes.

     “Oh!” Acerola then leans in conspiratorially, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “Anyways! Do you have anyone to dance with, big sis?”

     A feeling of unhappiness then nestles itself in your chest. But it’s not entirely foreign... it’s a familiar, yet unfamiliar feeling all at once.

      _Said I’m fine, kid._

     Did Nanu really not like you so much that he’d immediately take back his offer..?

     Wait, _what?_ Only a few days ago, you told Professor Kukui that you hated him, and never wanted to see him ever, ever, ever again. Did you really deserve to dance with anyone? And did you really have time to have soulmates on the brain? All of this aside, you’d probably more feel like dancing when you finished with the reconstruction of Po Town.

     “No, I don’t,” you then laugh, shaking your head. “I’m okay. Can’t I just... dance by myself?”

     And with those words, the conductor on the Pretty (Purple?) Pink Princess train slams on the brakes, sending it screeching to a dead halt.

     ...Uh-oh.

     Judging by Acerola’s positively _horrified_ expression, you’ve just committed the biggest all-time faux pas in front of the younger girl. Her glistening eyeballs are so wide, you think they’ll pop out of their sockets any second now.

     Dancing alone then, is definitely a capital crime in Pretty Pink Princess Land.

     (You’d bet Officer Nanu was a repeat offender. But... for some reason, that thought doesn’t send you into fits of laughter or scorn like it usually would.)

     “No! You can’t!” she huffs. “Hmph! We have to, have to, HAVE TO find you someone, then! I won’t let you dance by yourself!!”

     You laugh bashfully. “Sounds good to me, Acerola! I’ll leave that up to you.” Leaning forward, you then ask, “So, what do we need to do for his birthday...?”

     She grins. “I thought you’d never ask!”

 

* * *

  
  
     Cardboard box of piping-hot malasada in hand, you and Acerola make your way to the Po Town police station.

     On the front stoop of the building, Acerola turns to you and pouts. “That numskull always plans something on his birthday so he doesn’t have to hang out with me for the day, big sis! So don’t be discouraged if Uncle Nanu’s suuuuuper grouchy today!”

     You nod. _Stick to him like white on rice. Gotcha._

     She knocks, and the door of the police station creaks open.

     “Looks like the door’s open...” the younger girl whispers to you. “Let’s go in!”

     “I wouldn’t—“ you say quickly, but Acerola darts inside before you can stop her. You follow her inside.

     As you enter the Po Town police station, your eyes dart from side to side. No sign of the Kahuna anywhere that you could see...

     Crunch-crunch.

     You lift up your the sole of your shoe— tiny pieces of glass have embedded themselves deep inside the material. An uneasy feeling nestles itself in the pit of your stomach.

      _What happened in here?_

     Alas, before you can do much investigation, Acerola announces her arrival. Banging on a metal pot (where’d she even _get_ that?), Acerola then chirps, "It's such a beautiful day, Uncle Nanu!"

     "Rise and shiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!" she giggles, her eyes fixed on a mound of blankets on the couch. “Hear those Pikipek chirping in the trees?! It’s morning!”

     From beneath the huddle of blankets on the couch, a hoarse, gravel-like voice groans, "Tell 'em to mind their own darn business—“

     Acerola laughs, it’s clear she doesn’t think much of his protests. Giving you a meaningful look, she marches over to Mount Hoku-Blanket.

     "And you can’t stay in bed, because... I brought big sis too, Uncle Nanu!" Acerola then yanks you forward, then, abruptly pulls away the blankets obscuring Nanu from sight. "If you’re really busy that you can’t take the day off, you can bring us along! Nothing like a bring your family to work day, right?!”

     Nanu's pupils widen when he catches sight of you, and he pulls the thin blanket over his face. "Darn it, Acerola. Couldn't you have just waited until I shaved..."

     "Nope!” she chirps. “You don't need to!"

     "The one darn day a year I have to do my evaluation of the sorry folks they call cops on these islands; and you think it'd be a good idea to bring ride-alongs..." he mutters from his fort.

     "I can leave," you offer, a little annoyed. It's not like you particularly enjoyed being here at 9:30 AM.

     (You, however, notice prickly salt and pepper colored stubble protruding from his chin, and feel a little sorry for the older man.)

     "Hee-hee! Crime doesn't wait for you to be all shiny and clean, Uncle Nanu, even if it is your birthday! Up and at 'em!" Acerola grins impishly at you. “I'm sure big sis doesn't mind- do you?"

     You're sure _he_ minded. "No, I don't mind," you say.

     "But, Acerola," you then crouch down to meet the young girl’s eyes. "I'm pretty sure that because he’s a great police officer, Kahuna Nanu wants to do the best job he can."

     "The hell he does," he snorts under his breath. You flash him a warning glare.

     "But," you continue, still glaring at Nanu, "he can't do a good job if he doesn't look presentable to his subordinates. So we need to give the kahuna a little time to get ready, okay?”

     Acerola gasps. "Oh, I see... Big sis, you're so smart! My daddy always said that clothes make the man... is it something like that?!"

     “Mm-hmm.” You nod at her, then glance over at Nanu, daring him to contradict you. _See what I mean?_

     Entirely unconvinced, the older man scoffs and rolls his eyes in response.

     "Actually, you’re right, Acerola! So, if he wants to do a good job, he has to look and feel the part. Get it?”

     She emphatically nods in the affirmative. He grunts, and you take that as your cue to give the man some privacy to change. However, you can’t resist lingering in the main room of the station, as you wonder about the circumstances of the day before.

     ...Until all of a sudden, there is an deafening CLANG!, as several objects hit the ground. In mid-step, you then hear Nanu hiss out a string of curses that would make Acerola blush furiously had she heard it.

     You rush over, the sound had come from the bathroom. When you get inside, the bathroom smells like steam and sudsy hot water. All over the counter and littered about on the bathroom floor are razors, bottles of shaving foam, pill bottles, and the like.

     “Are you okay?” You ask. The drops of blood spattered on the floor are unmissable.

     Maybe you had been a bit too quick to help— the Kahuna’s barely dressed.

     A voice whispers: _Don’t look!_

     But even as you think this, you can’t help but have your eyes transfixed on this sight before your very eyes. His shirt is missing, draped by the side of the sink; his slacks hang carelessly off of his hips, the leather belt around his waist undone.

     Your eyes lock. The older man blinks, then swears again, all whilst bumping his head on the cabinet. “Damn me, why...”

     “...can I help?” you immediately ask. Nanu shakes his head from side to side in the negative. He shuffles away from you, shielding one side of his body with his  hand.

     Noticing he’s acting rather cagey, you then ask, “Do you... want me to get Acerola?” figuring he’d probably be more comfortable with her around than you.

     “No!” Nanu shouts a little too quickly, and you recoil from his sharp retort. The older man shakes his head. “Sorry. No... Just had a little screw-up.”

      _If that was a little screw-up, than you’d hate to see him in worse shape._ “That's okay, but... I won’t leave you here,” you say stubbornly. “You’re hurt, aren’t you? There must be something I can do to help...”

     He sighs, resigned. “Now that you’re here, girl, I guess you could help this old wretch out with some first aid...”

     You then assist the older man in organizing the bottles of shaving foam and razors scattered about on the floor and in the sink, and place the toiletries in a neat row, and ponder to yourself. _Okay, first aid..._

     "Figures I'd cut myself shaving today," Nanu mutters, his left hand rubs the backside of his neck. "Just my damn luck."

 _Well, having a working mirror to look in...would help matters, wouldn’t it?_ You couldn’t imagine having to shave in a mirror that was broken. “That’s why it’s good I’m here to help,” you point out amidst his grumbling, and turn your attention to his wound.

     Thin white scars of varying sizes and depth mar the underside of his chin, and trail down the side of his neck. And there’s too many of them, cut too deep, to be merely shaving accidents gone wrong.

     You apply pressure to the wound on the underside of his chin, but you notice that one of his hands is also bandaged up as well.

     That distinctly pained and distant look he had given you only yesterday comes to mind immediately. And a wave of hurt washes over you.

     "What's that look on your face...?" Nanu now asks you, raising an skeptical brow.

     Feeling immediately sorry for your impolite stare, you look away. “Oh, sorry." What's _with_ you today?

     "Just get some petrol jelly to seal that sucker up..." He clicks his tongue, then points to the cabinet. “Second shelf.”

     After rummaging through first aid supplies, such as bandages, and dressings, as well as familiar bottles of pain relief medication, gauze, and electrical tape, you retrieve the container of petroleum jelly, and turn your attention to his wound. But you’ve never been this intimately close to the older man before, and fumble with the medicated ointment in your hands like a butterfingered klutz.

     “You’re looking about like a Deerling shot through the heart, girl.” He guides your hand to just beneath his jaw. "Right there." Viscous, bright-red blood drips slowly from the cut.

      _...Just how hurt are you?_

     Not like you haven't contributed.

      _...he was being a jerk!_

     Yeah, but-

     Can you really blame him?

     In fact, how much...

  _...did you really know about Kahuna Nanu?_

     Noticing your intent stare, his skin flushes straight down to his collarbone, and Nanu shifts slightly in place. “Oh, let me do it, girl.”

     “Wait, I need to actually see,” you protest. “You keep moving around!”

     Looking at his bare chest now, you notice wiry, sinuous muscle overlies his deceptively thin frame. The scars you had seen underneath his jaw trail down to the midline of his torso. Circular-shaped indents and bruises mar his pale skin.

     Raised and knotty scars, thin and white, run down his chest—one in particular is jagged, like someone’s dragged a knife across its length on his torso. And right where his heart would be, in the upper left of his chest, is a strangely flesh-colored circular depression, with odd striations around the center.

     Feeling your face grow hot, you quickly smush the petroleum in between your fingertips to warm the viscous, thick jelly with your body heat. As you spread the mixture across the underside of his jaw, you notice his jaw muscles tense up ever so slightly.

     "Does it sting?" you ask.

     The kahuna adjusts himself, then relieves a crick in his neck. “Eh."

     Puzzled, you parrot his movement by tilting your head to one side. “‘Eh'?"

     "Had worse in my day... But then again,” Nanu looks down at you through his grizzled grey hair, and motions to the scars you had been not-so-subtly gawking at. “You can see that, girl. Can’t you...?”

     You tear your eyes away from his chest, embarrassed. “Sorry."

     As you smooth the viscous substance into the wound, the petroleum jelly proves to make quick work of the cut, you’re amazed to see it stop bleeding a few minutes after the ointment’s application.

     Underneath his breath he mutters, “...you wretch, why do you keep doing that...?”

     Quicker than you can even blink, he then rattles off the various ways he had received every wound— and your mouth becomes slack. Simply put, the work that the International Police did made Professor Kukui’s propensity to get into life threatening situations look like utter self-preservation in comparison.

     “....why some of the scars have more keloid tissue than others.” he then concludes. Your amazed stare, however, speaks volumes. “Look at me, going on and on... Girl, you know what keloid tissue is?”

     “Um...” you look upward briefly. “It’s because the scars didn’t heal right?”

     Nanu lets out a laugh, maybe in spite of himself. “Yeah, actually, that’s right. You’re right... Smart girl.” His tone drops low, and your face becomes warm with embarrassment.

     You then rummage through the cabinet for some gauze, the rumble of the older man’s voice comes out. “How are you doing...?”

     “You mean, yesterday...?” You ask. He nods.

     “Listen...” you say, still looking through the kahuna’s bathroom cabinets, “I’m sorry. I thought going to Sushi High Roller would be something fun, we could all do together.” Hoping to be reassured, you look for a familiar expression in Nanu’s face. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of your kindness.”

     The older man’s lips purse together briefly. Then as he inhales deeply, his chest rises and falls in tandem with his breathing. “Look, kid, it’s not you...” Nanu sighs. “Take my word for it— it’s not you.”

     “I’m glad...” you say. “I thought I made you upset. But...”

     You then instinctively reach out, and trace the scar on the upper left quadrant of his chest.

     “What about... this one?” you ask slowly. As your fingers circle around the circumference of the scar, you notice a palpable, reassuringly steady warmth about his chest. “You didn’t mention it.”

     He flinches a little, and for a moment, you think he’s going to wrench away your hand. His wiry hands clench uneasily, then... release. “That one’s not important... No one’s asking.”

     You frown. “ _I’m_ asking.”

     Nanu continues, ”You did a good job, kid...” His voice adopts a dull, flat tone— he’s talking right through you, unaware of or simply unwilling to answer the question you asked. You sigh, and drop the question.

     After you’re certain the bleeding has ceased completely, you hold a piece of soft roller gauze to his chin, then move his hand there to hold it. “All done.” Somewhat teasingly, you add, “Not too shabby, Kahuna!”

     Nanu smirks, clearly unconvinced. “Won’t be a hassle for you if I take a double-check, will it...?”

     Quickly pulling on his red undershirt, Nanu’s keen eyes then focus at his reflection in the fractured mirror. He combs through his grizzled hair quickly by dragging his hand carelessly through his hair.

     The older man then rubs his temples, almost as if to ward off a killer migraine.

     “Damn it all, it’s no use....” the older man sighs, then turns to you. “What do you really think, girl? Honestly...” His dark eyebrows raise briefly, motioning to his reflection in the mirror.

     Officer Nanu’s uniform is clean, and he’s wearing the same old worn-down sandals he always wears. However, today, his chin is shaved conspicuously clean, and the silvery-grey hair atop his head is awkwardly smoothed over in an attempt to make himself presentable. It’s kind of adorable.

     “Like I said, I think you look fine now, but...” Impetuously mussing up his damp hair, you then say, “...that’s much better.”  
He looks now more familiarly “Nanu” than before.

     “Better...?” Nanu blinks, takes a cursory glance at himself in the mirror again, then laughs softly—the sound like a gravel road. “Sorry, girl. Looks the same to me...”

     “That’s the idea,” you laugh, your hair swings forward as your shoulders bob up and down. This motion seems to put the man at ease. “That’s the idea!”

     He doesn’t say anything. But then, almost as if the words were magic, as if they had some psychic power over him... In one fluid motion he then reaches over, and combs your hair behind an ear. His knuckles drag over the curve of your cheek, a coarse but not unkind gesture. 

     “Can’t see you smile if your hair’s in the way of your pretty face, girl.”

     He then smiles, for real this time. And the hooked smile on his face is definitely worn, but the crinkles around his eyes soften the harsh, feline aspects to his facial features. It’s... almost, almost, almost handsome. And definitely more charming than the expression had any right to be on his face.

     He’s so close, too close again. A loud thud resounds in your ears. Your heart could ricochet straight out of your chest at any moment. A chorus of voices echo in your ears:  _There’s that the kahuna you hated, remember?_

     Even thinking this, you can’t will the thoughts away, because he’s right there and so close, and—

     He wears aftershave. Huh.

     It’s not the fancy kind at all; it’s certainly not the kind you would find in the manicured boutiques of Lumiose City. But there’s a strangely alluring quality to the scent, one that left you more lightheaded than you’d feel comfortable to admit— clean and smooth, yet bracingly sharp.

     What an utterly bizarre thing to fixate on. Of COURSE Nanu wore aftershave.

     Because no matter the enigma that was the Kahuna of Ula’ula island, he was still a normal, red-blooded man who drank burnt coffee, complained about getting up in the morning, and put his slacks on, one pant leg at a time.

     Still. Officer Nanu wears aftershave. And it smells _nice._

     Clearing your throat, you clarify a bit sheepishly, “What I mean is... You look better when you just look like you.” A distinct heat rushes all the way down to your chest.

     Feeling then immediately unsettled about the intimate state you had found yourself in, you turn away, and tell him that you’ll wait for him outside. You then put on the jacket you had tied around your waist.

     Absentmindedly, you tuck that same piece of hair behind your ear, smooth your thumb over the curve of your cheek.

      _He said you were pretty._

     You pinch the elastic of your cheek. Ow.

     After the older man emerges from the bathroom, he takes one look at you, then shakes his head. “Put this on,” Nanu says, handing you a charcoal-grey fleece scarf, albeit a bit gruffly. “Too cold outside to walk in that thin jacket...”

     “Thanks,” you say, and wrap the scarf around your neck, even though you hardly know why he’s done it.

     After clicking his belt into place, along with handcuffs and miscellanea pieces of equipment, the older man fastens that familiar handgun into place in its holster around his waist, along with a walkie-talkie and his Z-Ring from the counter.

     Nanu’s eyes then dart to the window. Behind the door of the police station, Acerola’s petite figure bounds up and down as she breathes into her hands. “Keep quiet about my little accident, you hear...?”

     Puzzled, you say: “It’s only a small shaving nick.”

     “Hmph. That’s right...” the older man says, and puts on his jacket stiffly. Nanu doesn't meet your eyes as he does so. ”...which is why no one wants to know about it.”

     His voice lowers an octave, and you shudder. “Got it?”

      _Can I at least know why?_ “Okay.”

     “But, Nanu—“

     With a quickness, his head whips back, and you realize you hadn’t called him by one of his many titles. You breathe in, and grin.

     “It really does look better.”

     The older man blinks in disbelief. “...Not too shabby at all.”

     “Not at all.” However, the awkward magic spell you cast has dissipated, and he flinches away yet again when you try to reach towards him.

     “Anyways... Let’s get going.”

 

* * *

  
     "52?"

     "Younger than that."

     "Okay... 35?" you ask.

     Nanu barks out a short, halting laugh. "Ha! I wish."

     "48?"

     "Hmm, almost there...”

     After making several stops for food at Acerola’s insistence, the three of you had finally arrived at the Malie City police station. As the three of you had set up equipment with a few of the other police officers, Nanu had explained to you that today the Kahuna would be evaluating their progress as police officers, through a series of drills and training exercises, and some of them even stood the chance of promotion.

     Chiming in, a familiarly tawny-skinned policeman then added: “I hope the Kahuna’s impressed with our progress!” Glancing over at Nanu’s perpetually bored, disinterested face, you manage a smile, but didn’t have the heart to tell him he shouldn’t really get his hopes up.

     While the older man finished setting up the Ultra Training simulation, as well as other drills such as CPR, 1 mile sprints, and the like, you and Acerola had made a game of guessing Nanu’s age.

     Unfortunately, much like many of the police officers who had started to take the practical exam, your joint efforts hadn’t been very successful. (For what it’s worth, you had tried your very best to be forgiving during the Super Training drills you had been tasked with running.)

     A couple of minutes later, as one officer’s Super Training simulation had come to an end, you blurt out, irritated:

     “I've guessed every number between 32 and 60 and you've said no to ALL of them!"

     Nanu shrugs while leaning lazily; he then throws his sinewy forearm across the shoulder of a plastic CPR dummy**. “What can I say? Growing forgetful in my old age... Maybe I’m younger. Or older. Can’t remember worth a damn...”

     You mutter, “Officer Nanu can't remember his own age, seriously...”

     Giving the nervous police officer standing across from you a thumbs-up, you then restart the Super Training simulation. “You’re okay!”

     But you’re more distracted than you’d like to admit, and you and your Pokémon just barely evade one police officer’s clumsily thrown fire type Z-move.

     Your eyes glance over at Nanu and Acerola.

     Stupid CPR dummy. You curse it for monopolizing most of his time, but it’s not like you’re jealous of a plastic mannequin. Because you’re not. And it would be dumb to be envious of a sentient-less object.

     You adjust the thick scarf around your neck, inhale deeply.

     You’re doing it to focus.

     And DEFINITELY not thinking about the Kahuna’s aftershave. _Nope._

As target practice resumes, his eyes dart over to yours, and he bites his lip. “Shoot, these damn folks’re gonna be the end of me,” the older man finally swears. The tensed veins in his neck resemble steel cords pulled taut just beneath his skin.

     You hold out your arms out. “Okay, try again!”

     The officer now aims his Pokémon’s attack, but it doesn’t seems that he’s aiming at the balloons...

      It seems like he’s aiming at _you._

      “Cripes, for the love of—“ he whistles through his teeth. Persian neatly intercepts the attack, but its trainer’s red eyes briefly flash with something resembling anger.

     “Aim for the damn target, NOT the girl, you son of a—“

     From beside you, Acerola lets out a surprised, indignant gasp. _“Language!”_

     Nanu pauses, he’s clearly beside himself with anger, but he calms down when he catches sight of Acerola’s expression of shock.

     “—gun.” he finally sighs, breathing out. “Thats what I was going to say. Right...” He gives you a look.

      _Partner in crime...?_ You try on your best reassuring smile. “I’m sure they didn’t mean anything by it.”

     His transgression unforgotten by Acerola, the young girl then raps Nanu on the head with a rolled up Malie Times. “Uncle Nanu— you have to be nice to the new recruits! Remember?!”

     Forced, the older man’s lips press together into a thin, white line. Nanu repeats the younger girl’s words sarcastically under his breath, “Of course, I’m real nice— this wretch’s the nicest fellow this side of this island...”

     “Whatever you say, Uncle Nanu." you laugh.

     He snorts; resets the training simulation. "You're at least a decade too old to be calling me that, missy."

     "Why not?" you ask. "Didn't you say that you couldn't remember how old you were...?"

     Giggling happily, Acerola swings her legs back and forth underneath her seat. She then takes another sip of a saccharine pink cherry-vanilla milkshake. Despite Nanu’s initial protests, the three of you had waited in the longest drive-thru line to please the younger girl’s demands. “Hee-hee! That's nuts that Uncle Nanu never told you! He was born in 197—“

     As if to shoo the younger girl away, Nanu makes a flippant waving motion with his left hand, his Z-ring slides down his wrist as he does so. "Enough outta you, kiddo...”

     ”B-but you still haven’t told us what kind of cake you want yet!” Acerola protests. “It’s your birthday! Everyone has cake on their birthday! And we need to know how many candles to put on it—“

     He abruptly holds up a hand to quiet her. “Would you look at this...” Red eyes become fixed on the rookie police officer ahead of him, the one that had his Growlithe aim its Flamerthrower at you. His expression noticeably darkens. “Wait here...”

     An uneasy feeling weighs down in your belly.

     Before the older man heads over, you reach out and squeeze his uninjured hand impulsively. His red eyes flit back at you, you then smile wistfully at him. _...I’m just joking._

     There’s no discernible change in the kahuna’s expression; however, his rangy fingers interlace with yours briefly. _I know, girl._

Unfortunately, their conversation is inaudible— and whatever had happened had caused the disagreement in the first place, causes the Kahuna’s mood from then after to noticeably worsen. After that incident, the older man no longer has the patience to entertain your clumsy attempts at lightening his mood.

     The two of you flit by through the Malie City police station, trying to gauge what the Kahuna would like for his birthday, whether it be the type of cake he’d like to even his favorite color or prized possession. But judging from their confused, befuddled states, either all of the police officers in the station were sworn to secrecy, or...

     ...nobody even knew the Kahuna of Ula’ula that well at _all._ Both of possibilities of which, were very troubling.

      _This isn’t going very well._ “You know, Acerola, maybe we should try something else.”

     “Hmm, you’re right... You know what I think would work!” Acerola grins. “Dress-up!” She holds up an Alolan police uniform. Judging from the ultra-wide sleeves and the stupid long torso, it looks several sizes too big.

     Your brow furrows. “What?”

     “Well, I was thinking, big sis... We’re could all be like, a police family! Isn’t that cool, or what?” she says. “Then maybe more people would tell us about Uncle Nanu.”

     Well, even if that didn’t work, maybe it’d cheer Nanu up. You laugh. “Very cool, Acerola.”

     She beams. “Okay, you try this one on—“

     No luck. All of the Alolan police officer uniforms are several sizes too big.

     “Huh...” Acerola frowns. “How about this one?” She holds up a different uniform; her brow furrows. “It’s a little different than the others, though... It doesn’t match.”

     You smile. “That’s okay, as long as we can do it all together, right?”

     She giggles and nods her head. “Of course!”

     After the brief rustling of fabric as you change into the outfit, you peer at yourself in the mirror. It doesn’t look half-bad.

     “Wow, it fits you really well...!” Acerola gasps. “We have to show Uncle Nanu!”

The two of you then search for the Kahuna, but can’t find him anywhere. It seems like he’s vanished into thin air— but then, in a back room of the police station: the two of you stumble on two men arguing: the Kahuna and the young police officer from before.

     Acerola almost marches in, but you reel her back, and put a finger to your lips. She nods.

     “H-hey, Officer.” The man nervously stutters.

     “What’s up.” he inhales sharply.

     “Just on duty...!” he laughs. “Can I help you, Kahuna? Didn’t I do well today during the training simulation?”

     It’s quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop.

     “Sure.” Nanu says, then, just as casually as he would discuss the weather, he asks, “So. Wanna tell me why you aimed at that trainer today, even though... I gave you explicit orders not to...?”

The younger officer’s face scrunches up, then almost placidly, he says: “I was just doing what I could to pass... That’s what I was told in the academy—“

     “So you’re just following orders, huh...?”

     A look of indignant annoyance crosses the younger man’s face, then:

     “Wasn’t it the same in the International Police?” he asks suddenly, an innocuous look on his face. “Don’t you need to step on others to get on top...? It’s the same here.”

     Nanu blinks, recoils slightly like he’s just been slapped in the face. 

     In a very low, very quiet voice, he says: “And why do you think I even left that horrible place to begin with...? Because of scum... like you.”

     “Your badge and gun better be on my desk in ten minutes. Get out of my sight.“

     Just after the argument, Nanu catches sight of the two of you; he stops and stares at you in the doorway.

     Interlinking arms with you, Acerola then teases, “Hey, don’t you think it’s rude to stare at a lady, Uncle Nanu?!”

     But you can’t help but feel like you’ve stumbled on something... you weren’t supposed to see.

     Because he looks... sad. And hurt. And all of these emotions bottled up into one very uncharacteristically emotional, very unNanu expression.

     “Take that off,” he finally snaps, shoving your clothes back into your hands. “Making a damn fool of yourself... You too, girl.”

     He then briskly walks off.

     “Sorry, big sis...” Acerola mumbles, knocking the heels of her shoes together. She then huffs, “I don’t know why he’s so cranky today! Today’s his birthday! You can’t be UPSET on your birthday!”

     “That’s okay, Acerola. He must have woken up on the wrong side of his bed!” you joke. “Let’s go get changed.”

     Looking down at the lapel of the uniform, you see that the design is very  different from Acerola’s. A badge falls out of the pocket. The name is smudged...

      _Who’s... that?_

     “Acerola,” you ask suddenly. “Do you know whose uniform this is?”

     “Before I didn’t have a clue! But... now that I really think about it, I think it’s from that pretty lady...” the younger girl puts her index finger to her chin. “She had purple hair... Anabel, was her name! I think she left a couple of her uniforms to change while she was here on the island.”

As you undress, your mind spins around in circles, trying to digest the information you’d received this afternoon. However, even though you don’t have a very good idea of exactly to do for the Kahuna’s birthday, you decide to start your preparations for the birthday party.

 

* * *

  
     Your plan decided, you gather up Acerola, along with Molayne and Sophocles to prepare for Nanu’s surprise birthday party. You had wanted Plumeria to tag along, but Molayne had explained that “Plumeria had some business at the Pokémon Center today, so she wasn’t able to come.” You’re slightly disappointed, but decide not to ask on it further. 

     All throughout the rest of the day, the four of you set out in buying party decorations, supplies. Whilst in the middle of the celebration aisle, your hands ball up into fists unconsciously as the four of you browse through the shelves of the Thrifty Megamart. 

_He just had to know that everyone was here for him, and then it’d be all right._

     Huddled up, the four of you murmur amongst yourselves. “Okay, here’s the plan.”

     The plan was that....

     When Nanu entered the Po Town station, streamers would go off, you’d all cheer, “Surprise, Kahuna! Happy birthday!” and he’d smile, despite himself, despite his horrid day, despite your clumsy efforts, despite his foul mood that seemed to have fallen over him, because...

     Because birthdays always had happy endings.

    With bated breath, the four of you wait behind the doors of the station. A worried, pensive look crosses Molayne’s face for a moment, but upon seeing all of your faces, a smile quickly reappears on his face.

     Now, what was supposed to happen, was that the kahuna’s birthday party went swimmingly, because you all had tried super hard to decorate the police station.

     In the Thrifty Megamart, Acerola and Sophocles spent an hour tangled up in multicolored streamers, then you all had argued about who should buy the cake and what flavor it should be, setting out bright balloons, in various shades of pink and purple and orange and yellow and black and grey.

     ...But instead, when the Kahuna of Ula’ula island enters the Po Town police station, and takes one look at your decorations, the colorful streamers and garlands, the cake with candles not yet lit, and his dark brows draw together.

     The four of you wait there for a couple of seconds, eager to hear what he’d think. Nanu then lets out a spent, exasperated sigh. He doesn’t seem to like the streamers.

     Or... _anything, really._  
  
     “I don’t know,” he says finally, “What you folks think you’re doing.”

     “We planned a surprise party for you!” Acerola laughs.

     Nanu frowns deeply, his forehead creases. “Never asked you to...”

      _Oh no._ “Do you not... like it?” you ask now.

     Molayne offers, “Kahuna, I think it’d be great if we all celebrated together. Wouldn’t you want that?”

     The kahuna’s brow draws together, troubled. “Look. Apologize for the hassle you folks must have gone to. But...” the older man then says in a low voice, “The only thing I want is you folks to head home.”

     “But...” Acerola says softly... “Aren’t you going to at least have some of the food?”

      _I don’t get it..._

     “Gotta obey the birthday boy’s rules, kid.” he says, knocking off his sandals just behind the front door. “...At least clean up the ruckus before you go.”

     He then takes a seat at the couch, flips on the television, and throws his head back.

     Unfortunately, that’s the sort of birthday it is.

     After that utter catastrophe, you find yourself fiddling with the hem of your clothes; your eyes fixed on the your paper plate as you force a spoonful of the cake into your mouth. The frosting of the cake’s too sweet; you can’t stand the taste.

     Arriving from the living room, Molayne laughs nervously, while he puts away the uncut Alolan vanilla cake in the box. “Don’t be too hard on yourself because it didn’t pan out, Champ. We should have said something...”

      _Said what?_

     Sophocles sighs, smushes his cheeks together. “Big Mo, Acerola and I didn’t wanna discourage you, but...” he motions for his cousin to continue.

     Molayne explains kindly, “Champ, the last time the Kahunas and Captains here on Alola tried to hold a collective birthday party for Officer Nanu, it... it was a veritable disaster. I think he didn’t come out of the police station for a week.”

     Sophocles nods. “From what I can remember... Big Mo’s right.“

     Uncharacteristically melancholy, Acerola smashes together the cake on her paper plate with her plastic fork, rendering it nothing but unpalatable mush. Her shoulders droop, and she sneaks a glance at Nanu’s hunched-over figure sitting on the couch. “But... I... thought this year would be different...”

     “I don’t know why, but I had the same feeling...” The younger boy gives you an appraising look.

     “I’m sorry,” is the only thing you can offer them, because you feel like you’ve let them all down.

     After they all depart, you tell Acerola:  
“Give me a minute...”

     Making your way to the couch, you slowly tiptoe on raised heels towards the older man. The sounds of a sitcom’s laugh track can be heard from the television.

     “Officer Nanu?” you offer.

     He raises his dark eyebrows in acknowledgment.

     “We didn’t make you upset, did we?”

     “No, kid.” Nanu shakes his head, but he looks tired, so tired. "But... I just want peace and quiet... All that I want. Don't know why you all won't listen to me."

     “Okay." you say. After a brief period of awkward silence, you then ask, "Do you want me to go?"

     He shrugs. The man on the screen gets pie thrown in his face. “You can stay if you feel like... Doesn't matter to me."

     Nanu's words sting a little. You probably should've known better than to bother him, but you can't help but feel hurt at his sudden brusqueness.

    Heading back to the kitchen, you then hum to yourself as you cut a small piece of your portion of the thickly frosted cake, place it on a plate, and wrap it in cling-film. _It's a shame, it's a pretty cake. He should at least try a little..._

     "Okay, all done.” you glance over at him. "Kahuna Nanu?"

     A low ‘hmm’ comes from the couch.

     You squeeze your eyes, and exhale. “I'm sorry."

     Nanu lets out an audible sigh. “I get it... Just want to be left alone, girl."

     "Okay." You say. Stopping in the doorway, you linger just briefly, hoping he’ll say something, anything to redeem your efforts.

     “Also.” His voice thick with a painful tone you can’t quite place, the older man then calls out, “...Cake's gonna go to waste if you don't take it with you- not fond of the sweet stuff."

     "We already packed it up to go,” you manage to say back. However, you can’t help your choked-out reply. “But I wrapped some cake in the fridge if you just decided that you want it."

     Lingering briefly still, you then whisper, “Bye, then.”

     Nanu, however, says not one word in response.

     You shake your head. _What did you expect...?_

     You then feel a distinct tug at the fabric of your clothes, and see the diminutive figure of Acerola— her normally cheerful face pinched in, the whites of her eyes pinky-red and swollen. Her mouth makes little sucking, whimpering sounds, as though her tiny  heart might break into a million pieces. 

      “Let’s go find your Rotom,” the young girl whispers.

 

* * *

  
  
     Only a few hours later during that very evening, you and Acerola drag your feet through the aisles of the abandoned Thrifty Megamart in search of your Rotom.

     Halting in the middle of the baking aisle, Acerola covers her mouth with her hand and looks on at an abandoned mixer. "I don't get it..." she sniffs, then continues, "I didn’t think it would be that bad if we threw him a birthday party this year...”

     "It's my fault." you say, shielding your face from the thick sheets of dust that a Ghost Pokémon kicks up. "I was too pushy..."

     "No, don't say that!" Acerola protests, and pats you on the back. "I don’t know how to describe it, but he looked happy when he was with you today, big sis."

     "Really?" You’re hardly convinced.

     "Mm-hmm! He may not look it, but he's pretty bad at hiding those kinds of things!" she says. "He likes you, I can tell! Trust me. He wouldn’t have put up with me for so long today if he didn’t!”

     Her eyes then dart around. “Oh... I think I heard some buzzing around here somewhere....”

     After circling once through the building, you have to pause because of a sudden tightness in your chest. Coughing probably from the thick sheets of dust, you cough, and cough, and spit. As you wipe away the spit, you’re surprised to see the redness of blood shot through your saliva now smeared across the sleeve of your jacket.

     Upon seeing this, Acerola lets out the loudest, most ear-splittingly shrill shriek you’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing.

     “B-BLOOOOOD!”

     Nanu’s fiercely glinting eyes immediately come to mind. _No! No._

      _Keep quiet about my little accident, you hear...?_

     Fearful, her posture crumples in on itself, making the young girl appear to be even smaller than she already was. The heels of her shoes click together as she shakes.

     Oh, that’s why...

     ...she’s afraid of blood.

     “Hey, it’s okay.” You crouch down, and pat Acerola’s back reassuringly. Tremors shake her diminutive figure. “I’m okay!”

     She bites her lower lip nervously, her fearful shuddering brought to a calm. “You’re sure, big sis?”

     Your right hand sticks its thumb up, and you grin. “Definitely.” The younger girl still looks uncertain, however, and she looks as if she will start crying again any minute. Perhaps to appease her, you rummage through your bag, and say, “Acerola, it’s really okay... I brought some leftover _malasada_ from the party today. You like _malasada_ , right?”

     “I-I’m not hungry...” Acerola mumbles while turning away, but you don’t miss her violet eyes sneaking glances at the bag of pastry.

     “You can’t fool your big sis!” you point to her growling stomach, and laugh. She hadn’t eaten much at the party at all. More insistent, you hold the bag of _malasada_ open so she can smell the fragrantly sweet inside, then ask, “We have _haupia_ and _taro_ available— fit for royalty! A princess wouldn’t refuse an offering of her subjects, right?”

     The younger girl blinks back tears, and childlike, she sniffs while reaching into the bag, “I like _t-taro_ better.” The two of you continue to walk through the mega mart, the silence punctuated only by the munch-munch of Acerola snacking on cold, gummy _malasada_ from the brown paper bag.

     “Do you know what I like about _malasada_?” she asks you suddenly, while tearing off a piece of the dough. Acerola then hands some to you, and you pop it in your mouth. You savor the tiny sugar granules as they dissolve on your tongue, they aren’t too sweet.

     “What I like about these donuts, big sis, is,” she says, as the two of you round an darkened aisle corner, “that you don’t have to be reminded of the fact that there isn’t anything there.”

     You slow your pace to match hers, your eyes still scanning the area for your Rotom. “How do you figure?”

     It’s quiet. No Rotom here either...

     “Have you ever tried an Unova-style donut, big sis?”

     You nod vaguely; your hand curls over into an circle shape. “The ones with the hole in them?”

     “Right! I... always thought it was kinda sad that there’s less donut to eat,” the younger girl says, popping another not quite crispy pastry into her mouth. “I always thought, what kinda numskull puts a hole in dessert on purpose?!”

     “But these ones are perfectly round,” the younger girl then holds one up, and inspects it. A pebble-like lump forms in her throat. “So you... d-don’t have any hole to eat around in the first place!”

     Her eyes are glossy with tears. You think the younger girl’s trying to tell you something, but you're unable to discern it.

     “Do you get it?” You have to shake your head. Her dragging footsteps slow to a complete stop, and the only sound that can be heard in the megamart is the high, shrill whistling of the frigid wind. Her voice now tiny and very, very quiet, Acerola whispers, “Do you know why some people come to the islands, big sis?”

     “Some people... some people come here because they...” the young girl shakes her head, and closes her fists tight. Her entire body trembles with the effort. She swallows hard and bobs her head. Then, with the click of her throat, Acerola chokes out:

     “Because sometimes it r-really, really hurts to keep on living.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes and Comments:
> 
> *The Ocean Arts Festival is a pretty cool event in Hawaii— it’s an annual marine-themed arts extravaganza, which celebrates the return migration of the Pacific humpback whales to the islands.
> 
> **Apparently police officers in Hawaii can become CPR certified. Isn’t that neat?
> 
> Alolan Glossary of Terms:
> 
> taro: a perennial, tropical plant primarily grown as a root vegetable for its edible starchy corm, and as a leaf vegetable, marked by a characteristically purple hue.
> 
> haupia: a traditional coconut milk-based Hawaiian custard often found at luaus and other celebrations. Sometimes used to flavor other desserts as well.


	16. The Abyss Where You Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You said I was just like a man living in an empty castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s just get into it.

  
     It’s only human nature that every time he thinks about the story, some variable changes, something’s different, and the memories aren’t credible anymore.

     000 was a pragmatic man. He liked to find solutions much more than indulge this problem of his, and he reasoned:

_...if you’re not going to use this life like other people, you should throw it out with the morning trash._

     As he sat there, alone in his little house, it becomes apparent that the solution lied on the handgun on his lap. This would be the cure for being afflicted with this sickness that couldn’t be cured by taking pills.

     His hands trembled, shook in place.

      _You know what your answer will be, the question is:_

_...can you live with it?_

     Pointing the cold steel of the handgun to his chest, he breathed in...

     And counted to three.

 

* * *

 

     Back in the Thrifty Megamart, you stop in place. The uncharacteristically morose tone to her words startles you out of your funk.

     “Acerola, what are you saying...?”

     Anxious, her eyes flit here and there and everywhere, as if she could find the answers to your question in the whistling of the wind. 

     “Well, Alola’s always really sunny, and the air’s suuuuper clean, so a lot of people come here when they get sick...” she mumbles, suddenly troubled; her eyes are glossy like the jewel on her daisy hairpin. “That’s all I meant to say.”

     The younger girl smiles at you big and wide now, a gesture meant to reassure you of her wellbeing. It, however, only has the opposite effect on you. Your frown deepens.

     “Acerola...” You kneel down, rub her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

    “Nothing...” She shakes her head willfully, squeezes her eyes closed.

     “I’m sorry...” you say softly. “If this is about the blood, I swear I’m fine. Really.”

     The younger girl takes a shallow breath, the efforts of which reverberate through her entire body. Her little knees knock together in a childish motion. A little pebble like lump is caught in her throat. Her teeth chatter as her knobby stockinged legs wobble, betraying just how very small she was.

     “Please... you can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

     Her movement ceases for a moment.

     And then whispers something very troubling.

     “P-please don’t ask me to.”

      _What...?_

     As the weight of her words crystallize into a solid, sharp, undeniably real thing, a weight settles itself on your chest.  
  
     Something is horribly, terrifically wrong.  
  
     Still on your knees to meet her eyes, you peel off your thin jacket and hang it around her small body. It’s not so cold if she is warm. You, however, keep the scarf around your neck. “Acerola, you’re shivering...”

     “It’s nothing...” she whispers softly.

     “You’re lying,” you whisper back. Dish-plate eyes look back at you, startled. She hadn’t expected that response.

     “If you keep everything bottled up, it’s not healthy. Please...”

     No good. Despite your best efforts, she’s shut up tighter than a Cloyster.

     You think a little, then put on your bravest smile.

     “Can I tell you something?”

     Violet eyes dart up.

     “Why I’m really here?”

     ”You have to keep it a secret, okay?”

      After a brief pause, she nods very slowly. 

And so you tell Acerola the entirety of the events that had happened thus far.

      “Because I kept everything bottled up inside me... that’s why I’m here now.”

     “I said horrible things, and now...”

     “I know I have to face what I did, face him, sooner or later, but...” you hug your shoulders tightly. “I can’t, because I’m not strong enough.”

     Acerola puts her arms around your leg. “Don’t say that! Everybody makes mistakes, does things they aren’t proud of...”

     “Like...” you breathe out.

     “Officer Nanu?”

     Alarmed, a pink flush spreads across her face. 

     Acerola falls quiet; her eyes are fixed at the ground.

     “Mm-hmm...” she admits.

      “Listen...” you say now. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.”

    “No...”

    “I-I think it’s super important that you _hear this.”_

The two of you firmly rooted in place; the wind ruffles your clothing.

     “You came here about a year ago, right, big sis?”

      “Right.”

      Acerola thinks, breathes in, then continues:

      “This happened even before that...”

     “You know... I’ve always lived on Ula’ula Island—it’s my one and only home! I know all of the residents on the island, and they know me. We’re all a big family...”

     “ _Ohana.”_ _Professor Kukui reminds you, and it stings a little._

     That was understandable. She probably had her dad to thank for that— from what you had heard of Acerola’s father, he seemed well-liked on Ula’ula Island.

      Acerola smiles fondly at the memory.

     “But I got lost once in Po Town, when I was really, really, really small...”

     ”My dad told me I wouldn’t stop crying for anything!”

     “But even though I was a big crybaby, the police officers there gave me a huge mug of Tapu Cocoa and a blanket and made sure I was never alone...”

     “...Because everyone’s so close here, we all share their lives with each other!”

     “So... a few years ago, when Uncle Nanu moved to the island...”

     “Everyone was under the impression he came here to retire, and expected him to share his life with us! But...”

     “He wouldn’t say anything about himself, or what he did, or what his job was like before...”

     You try and process this information. Of course Officer Nanu hadn’t been here forever— Agent Looker and Anabel’s familiarity with the man spoke to his lengthy past so far away from Alola. It’s no wonder that the members of the tiny island nation had found him extremely unusual, and vice versa. But... it’s so strange to hear more about the man from when even _he_ found the climes of Alola alien and unfamiliar. 

     “People began to think Uncle Nanu thought he was _better than them.”_

Her face falls.

     “Even though he’s the Kahuna, and a great police officer...”

     “Because he doesn’t fit in here...”

_“...everyone thinks of him as an outsider.”_

     Despite the fact that Officer Nanu had probably done little, if anything to clarify any misunderstandings between himself and the inhabitants of the islands, a lump forms in your throat.

_That’s not fair._

Acerola continues.

     “But it’s not just him...”

     “There’s only certain ways to be accepted here... like doing the island trials.” she whispers. “I-If you don’t fit in here, nobody cares about you.”  

 _“_ But... you never thought that,” you smile. “Right?”

     Acerola nods vigorously. “Mm-hmm! Even though that numskull can act like a stupid jerk sometimes, I always visit him....”

     “But once, when I went to visit the station...”

     “Uncle Nanu was on the ground, and he looked super pale... and w-when I shook him, over and over and over again, he wasn’t waking up...”

     “But I called more people, and they helped out! We had to take him to the PMC in Malie City...”

     Even though Lillie had told you many stories of Professor Kukui’s injuries, the anecdotal evidence of which the man had shown you himself, you could only imagine the shouts of medical personnel echoing throughout the Pokémon Center.

      _“Out of the WAY!”  
_

_“What the?! He’s losing blood volume so fast—“  
_

    _“Someone get me the saline!”_

_“He’s going to need an emergency transfusion. Get the IVs ready!”  
_

     “The nice nurses at the Pokémon Center at Malie City said I did a really good thing!” Acerola smiles now without looking happy. “That I saved his life! Ever since then, he's always been super nice to me..."

      As if to assuage your fears, Acerola  chirps too quickly, “But now he‘s fine. No biggie!”

     A thought occurs to you that makes your blood run ice cold in your veins.

      _Is that... what that indent is, then?_

You make an attempt to string together words, sentences that will make some kind of coherent sense in your mind.

     “You’re really brave, Acerola.” you say, your eyes are welling up with tears. “You’re so brave.”

     Unfortunately, the compliment doesn’t put her at ease. Her eyes grow large with concern. “I made you cry...!! Oh no... I-I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to make you upset...”

    _“You_ didn’t make me cry, Acerola...” you laugh, sniff while wiping your runny nose. “I’m just sad, because I can’t imagine what he must feel like.”

      “I don’t know but....” you shake your head. “I should have accepted that.”

      The younger girl crosses her arms across her chest stubbornly and pouts. "Hmph! You know Uncle always makes a big show of not wanting anything, but we know he's lying!"

     “He just doesn't want to be a bother!“

     “I just...”

      You say softly: “I just didn’t want this day to end on an unhappy note.”

       “And... I wish my Pokémon could know that I’m really sorry.”

       You then say more audibly than you could have intended,

      “I wish that it could know how sorry I am.”

      A distinct voice emanates from the emptiness of the Thrifty Megamart.

      “BZZT.”

     “Clever girl! Why zzzzay that to the air when you could zzzzay that to me in perzzzon?!”

      “Rotom?”

      “Where are you?” You call out. 

      “Right here!” 

      A dust-covered TV suddenly turns on, and you’re greeted by your Rotom’s face, brightly smiling across the television’s display. 

      “I’m sorry.” You say. 

      Your eyes water. “I’m so sorry.”

      It returns into your Pokédex, and you swiftly hug the device close.

     “I don’t think you’re annoying.” You whisper.

     “I know! I’m sorry, too.”

     You know that you’ll have so much to talk about, but those thoughts are pushed out of your mind with the brief happiness at being reunited with your Pokémon.

      “Hooray! I knew everything would work out!” Acerola laughs.

      However, you can’t help but feel you should feel more happy. And despite the joy you should feel at being reunited with your Pokémon, you don’t really feel like celebrating at the moment.

      “Partner? Zzzzomething wrong?” it chirps.

      You shake your head. “I don’t know, but...”

      “I was just thinking about someone who might be really sad, right about now.” you stand up. “Do...you know where that person might be?”

     Acerola touches her fingertips to her mouth thoughtfully. “Well, there is this place...”

     You give her a meaningful look. 

     “But I don’t know... Uncle Nanu might be mad if I say anything.”

     ”I just want to try and make things right.” you say. 

      ”You won’t tell anyone else where it is?”

     “Secret.” You hold out your hand, make a shaka sign. “I promise.”

     “Pinky promise?” she asks.

     You nod. “Pinky promise.”

     After entering the location’s information into your RotomDex, Acerola yawns. “It’s pretty late, big sis... Are you going there now?”

    You nod.

    Acerola rubs her tired eyes with the back of her hand, undoubtably exhausted from the large emotional effort she had just expended. Uneasily, she then says, “Do... you need me to go with you?” 

     You smile. Despite her precocious nature, she was still just a small child.

     ”I’ll be fine. I promise.” Acerola, however,  still looks doubtful. A shadow of doubt is cast on her face.

     ”I’ll let you know how it goes,” you promise her now, and adjust your jacket around her chest. The sleeves droop over her little arms. “Get some sleep, okay? Big sis’s orders. No cheating!”  

     She nods dutifully. Shaking off your doubts, with your pokemon in tow, you wrap the thick grey scarf around your nose, and...

     And decide to head for the sea.

    

* * *

 

      Acerola’s directions lead you to an abandoned beach by Malie City, the very picture of a island shore on the Pacific coast.

     The location is definitely out of the way— had you gone by yourself, you probably would had gotten lost in the maze of twists and turns present in the coastal city, but thankfully, your trusty RotomDex was there to point you in the right direction. 

     As you draw closer to the shore, a sense of temporary anxiety pervades your thoughts. What if Nanu had no interest in talking to you? Or worse yet, what if he wasn’t there at _all?_  You had, after all, turned up to the location simply with the hopes that the older man would be there. But lo and behold, Nanu‘s there, sitting on a bench overlooking the shoreline. At first, you can’t see his face, just the dark shape of him sitting on the bench, posture relaxed and unhurried.

     Nanu doesn’t see you, you think, until you’re standing right plumb in front of him, but then his eyes slowly open, and he lowers his head to look at you, calmly and unsurprised, and it occurs to you that he’s known you were there all along.

     “Here I am.” you say softly.

     He acknowledges you with a brief lift of his head, and you approach him cautiously. The older man’s holding a strange blinking device between his index and middle finger. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s an electronic cigarette.

     “And here you are, girl,” The older man responds. The device’s tail-light flickers. “Here you are.”

     Blowing smoke rings into the clouded  troposphere, Nanu then remarks, “Not much light pollution here.” He regards you through half-lidded eyes.

     He’s right— in this part of the city, there aren’t many streetlights overhead. And even though the city’s skyline is fogged over, and mist hangs just overhead, the vast expanse of the Milky Way peeks out of the cloud cover. It’s very quiet: there’s only him, you, the sound of the surf as it rolls in, the bracing ocean wind, and the distant sound of children’s laughter.

     “Real pretty, right...?”

     “Beautiful.” you breathe out the word.

     White sand castles in various stages of decomposition dot the shoreline, eaten up by the riptide. Patches of night-blooming flowers show their blooms in between thin blades of the beach’s dune grass, petal-white gardenia, tuberose, and moonflower blossoms hide amongst the black volcanic rocks on the cliff. Honeysuckle vines grow in between the weathered planks of the wooden benches that overlook the shore. Children play on the shore, a strange sight considering the late time of night.

     Maintaining the distance between the two of you, you stand and watch a small girl on the beach marked with a bright cherry red plastic pail beside her. Her hands pat and scoop damp sand into mounds of rolling hills.

     You know Nanu’ll talk when he wants to, that you shouldn’t want to dig into things that he doesn’t want dug up. But as you watch this young child create a sand-castle by herself while shuddering from the cold, you can’t help yourself.

     “What are you thinking about?”

     Nanu exhales. “I come here to not think.”

     “Can I...” you kick a dried coconut shell on the ground absentmindedly.

     “...not think with you, then?”

     Nanu says not a word. Instead, he taps the seat beside him, suggesting you take it, and you do, because you can’t think of what else to do. He then raises his gaze to the patchwork of stars overhead.

     “So. Assume that little girl told you the entire story.” he says at last, the words sounding as if they were scraping his throat.

     “Only a little.”

     “Hmph... Least you’re honest about it.” the kahuna exhales ghostly wisps of mist, the faint light of his electronic cigarette dissipates into the night sky. He then shakes his head, scratches the baby gray hairs at the base of his neck. “Ace found me in a bad way. No kid should have to see someone like that..."

     The brisk coldness of briny ocean air brushes past your shoulders as you sit on the wooden bench, and you shiver slightly. The ocean waves devour the girl’s architectural feat, leaving nothing but a shapeless mound of wet sand in its wake. Adjusting himself on the bench, the older man crosses and uncrosses his legs, then props up the balls of his feet on the steel railing in front of him. Nanu’s face is very still.

     “Why did you come, girl?”

     In a coarse, scratchy voice you can hardly hear over the crashing of the waves, he then continues: “Know you’ve sought me out...”

     You breathe deeply; you have something to say.

     “Because I wanted to see you.”

     His eyebrows immediately shoot up. _Repeat that?_

     “Thank you,” you blurt out suddenly—fearing that if the words didn’t come out fast enough, Nanu would stop them in their tracks, then issue them a ticket for not remaining in place. “Plumeria told me that you were the one who told her to help me. You didn’t have to tell her about Po Town, or any of this.”

     “Why’d those girls have to make all this fuss, huh?” Nanu mutters under his breath. He then sighs, the end light of the cigarette blinks red; it’s running out of battery. “Dunno why you’re thanking me... That girl would’ve come anyway. You know.”

      _I don’t know if she would have, but..._ “Thank you, anyways.”

     A stony look crosses the older man’s face as he stares into the horizon. 

     “...I don’t want your pity.” 

     “And I’m not giving it to you.”

     The merriment of children’s laughter dies down as the low grumble of a tropical storm rolls in, and they all scramble to gather their belongings. The schoolgirl takes a wistful look back at the ruins of her sandcastle, then snatches up her red pail and runs off.

     At times like this, you would’ve liked to go to the beach during a tropical storm and just sit there under the tempest— with just you and the rain and the thunder.

     “Because what you need is to be kind enough to yourself.”

     The man sitting beside you is the rain and the thunder.

     “Because even though he wants everyone to think so...”

     He glances briefly over to you, and you spirit a spread out smile, pulling up the scarf over your face.

     And you wonder what it will feel like to bear the brunt of his storm.

     “I think the Kahuna of Ula’ula Island isn’t all hard edges and tough love.”

     He harrumphs.

     “Still as headstrong and foolhardy as ever,” Nanu says. “Listen here. Don’t... don’t go around saying that to the folks here, they’d never let me live it down...”

     “My lips are sealed,” you say, yanking down your scarf, then mimic zipping up your lips with one swift motion and throwing away the key. 

     Unconvinced, he snorts, “Hmph. Have to preserve my reputation here...”

     “Okay.” Looking ahead into the tumultuous surf, you then breathe, “If anyone was going to ask me about what I thought of Officer Nanu...”

     You look back, wait for him to make eye contact.

     “I’d say he’s a no-good, mean jerk whose soul is as pitch-black as the Z-Crystal around his neck.” You give him an impish smile in return. “Does that work for you?”

     “All I’ve done is...” Incredulous, Nanu shakes his head, then cuts off his own thought. “Never mind. That’s all you’ve got...?” he asks.

      You can’t help yourself. “You want me to say something _worse?”_

     “Why not? Heard worse...”

     Like rooting around in the sand, not knowing if there were any jagged pieces of sea glass underneath, you try your best to tread carefully. “When you were in the International Police...?” 

     “That’s right...” the older man breathes, a little raspy now. “Much, much worse.” Nanu doesn’t elaborate.

     “But I know those words aren’t true.”

     He looks off and away. Doesn’t respond for a few minutes.

“You don’t even know what you don’t know,” Nanu says finally, his voice thick with something painful and unknowable.

      And just as sure that you’ve been cut, you feel a throbbing pain all over. Had you turned over your hands now, you wouldn’t be surprised to see your palms slashed from end to end. 

      “I’m trying my best to learn,” you say quietly in response. “Really.”

     After a few beats, the kahuna  breathes out. “I know,” he says back. 

     The two of you watch the stars, sitting on this faded, worn bench. You keep your eyes on the star-studded ceiling. The thin strip of distance that separates the two of you seems wider and more all encompassing than the galaxy overhead. 

      “Haven’t run off yet,” Nanu then remarks, taking a long draw from his cigarette.

     “Did you want me to?”

     He shrugs; he says the following as if they are immutable facts of life:

     “Not up to me, what I want. Never was.”

     “Why can’t it be,” you ask. “Why?”

     ”No one...” The words form in your mind before he can even finish his sentence:

      _No one wants to hear about that._

It’s because he thinks nobody cares. 

      _”_ Don’tsay that!” you blurt out, he’s taken aback. And even you’re surprised at the vehemence in your voice. ”I’m sorry, but...”

     ”Don’t say that no one wants to hear about that...! Please.”

     “I’m right here.” You press his hand to your chest, and choke out, 

    _“I’m right here.”_

     Your voice cracks. ”And I want to hear whatever’s on your mind.”

      He closes his eyes, and his shoulders drop, disarmed. You become aware of the closeness between the two of you; you can smell the scent of sweet tobacco and roasted espresso beans clinging to his skin. You close your eyes, let the wind wash over you, then release his hand.

     “...you’re too kind, girl.”

     “And you’re not kind enough.”

     “Don’t I know it.” Nanu turns away, and draws in a long breath. He then turns over a ebony-coloured stone in his other hand as he exhales. “...don’t I goddamn know it.” 

     “...Killed myself for a job that would’ve replaced me in a week if I dropped dead,” he says, swiftly throwing the smooth stone into the water. “Take care of yourself.”

     “People here care about you too. You should take your own advice.”

     Nanu notices you looking at his cigarette and laughs. “Ha! Bad habit I’m trying to kick...” he says. “Sorry. Bright side is this nonsense is better than the couple of packs this wretch would go through once a day a decade ago.”

    You turn over questions in your mind like the rolling surf, but fear to say anything, thus disrupting the now amicable silence between the two of you.

     “It’s getting dark out,” he says suddenly. “Planning on staying a while?”

     You dangle your legs under the bench restlessly. “I was thinking of staying for a few minutes. It’s...”

     You tilt your head and smile at him. 

     “Really, really beautiful.”

     His pupils dilate, his hardened gaze softens.

     Leaning forward so the heat of his breath is on your face, he says:

     “What’s that smile about, girl...?”

     You clear your throat.

     “I-I mean the beach. The beach is beautiful.” 

_Sure. The beach. That works._

     “How did you find this place?” you now ask, embarrassed.

     Something heavy passes over the older man’s face like a stone, but it quickly passes. “Funny story.”

     You watch him carefully. When Nanu‘s collecting his thoughts, he draws in a breath, then like clockwork, when he’s finished, he exhales out.

     “Come here to gather my bearings... Good place for peace and quiet. Doesn’t hurt that it’s not too hard on the eyes.”

     “You remember Malie Garden, don't you? Where all of those Cheri blossom trees are?” 

    “Was a nice place like this one before. Damn place’s overrun with tourists now...”

     “That started when the folks finished  renovation work on the park.”  

     “Don’t take this the wrong way, now. Nice of those Johto folks to donate their Cheri blossom trees to the city, but the damn things need strong sunlight and more real estate than you can imagine to bloom...”

     “If I’m understanding it proper, most of the native suckers got whacked to clear space for the gardens.”

     “But all of the flowers here _bloom late at night,_ so no one bothers with the place. Real bore during the day and all.”

     You whisper, “But this place is so beautiful.” _Like a secret garden._

     The kahuna shrugs, it doesn’t seem like an odd concept to him. “Some fools live their entire lives scared of the dark. Reckon that people always want to be the light to one another or some nonsense like that."

     "But, cripes,” he sighs now, “They’ve got it ass-backwards... Everyone needs a little bit of darkness in them to make them whole."

     “What would you say,” you turn to him. “If I told you I’m not afraid?”

     Nanu glances back at you. “Depends... Are you?”

     “No,” you say, “I’m not.”  
  
     “So, this is okay....” Trembling, his hand shakes ever so slightly as he raises it to the level of your eyes. “...you’ll be a good little girl for me?”

     Emboldened, he strokes your hair with the heel of his palm, in the same way he had petted his Pokémon’s head.

     “Good...” he whispers hoarsely. “Good girl.” His features are soft, relaxed; you realize you want to reach out and touch the corners of his mouth.

     After shifting in place, the older man then abruptly stands up. He won’t let you grab at anything deeper than that.

     “Let’s go out to eat... I’m starving.” Nanu suddenly declares. 

     He walks a couple of paces away, starting off in the direction of the city. You make a move to follow, but...

     Something’s prickling, burning up underneath your skin, and it nearly feels like you can’t breathe.

     And you almost wish...

     But that’s too dangerous a thought, so you put it quickly out of mind. Better to just not think about what either of you could be— and instead focus on what you SHOULD be feeling.

     But, as you look at the waves roll and toss in the wild grey sea, you realize you can’t even be certain of that anymore. 

     Nanu halts in place, noticing you’ve rooted to the spot. He then turns back toward you.

     “Do you want to do that, now? Come now, with me?” he asks now, his eyes soft like thunderheads before the rain.

     Like the ocean’s riptide, he pushes you back with one hand, and pulls you in with another.

     You nod, your chest’s too full of this implacable emotion to speak. His eyes dart ahead, and he motions for you to come and follow him. But to yourself, you whisper:

     “...I really want to.”

 

* * *

 

     “You could say a mean, old, no-good wretch spirited you off and is holding you hostage until you eat with him,” Nanu offers, walking the cobblestoned streets of Malie City.

     You blink. “But I don’t think you’re mean or old or a wretch.”

     He now gives you a wry, endearingly crooked smile, making him look even less so.

     Elaborating on his point, Nanu continues, “Look, flattery aside... Like it or not, folks’re gonna ask questions. Why you’re out with an older fellow at this time of night, and going to a fancy restaurant at that, on and on and on....” He sighs. Despite the kahuna’s relaxed voice, his words are very measured. “Providing you with an easy out, girl. You should take it.”

     Okay, so, he _was_ older than you, and you were on your way to eat somewhere, but, he was the Kahuna of the island... And a police officer at that.

     “Let me tell you, I don’t have the reputation of a Poké Ranger here.”

     “And I do?”

     “Huh. That’s funny... you’re too kind, girl.” he remarks, his laugh little more than a snort. “What I’m saying is—you’ve got an honest face.”

     When the two of you come upon the entrance to Sushi High Roller: you’re greeted by a closed sign hung across the entrance’s handles. Your shoulders slump.

     “Shoot. Got here too late, _sensei_ usually opens up the place for me...” he sighs. 

     Unfortunately, the storm is not to be forgotten, a low rumble of thunder cracks the sky, and a drizzle of rain begins to dot the cobblestones of the city’s streets. 

     Ducking underneath the awning of Sushi High Roller, the drizzling rain keeps you in place in an awkward position.  

     “Rain check?” you offer.

 

* * *

 

     As the drizzle brought on by the storm worsens into torrential rain, and the two of you shake and laugh with your abominably bad luck, you take this opportunity to duck into one of the city’s many 24 hour upscale supermarkets.

     Many prepared food stations and snack concessions are available in the supermarket. In fact, the store is exceptionally neat, clean, and pretty. As you look through the produce aisle, you find yourself amazed at the utter cleanliness of the products offered for sale. It’s like someone has scrubbed the dirt off of each carrot, throughly cleaned every potato and polished all of the apples in the produce department. The labels of canned beer and coffee face forward like little soldiers. The refrigerators are filled to the brim with different types of beverages.

     “Cripes, it’s raining cats and dogs out there,” Nanu sighs, putting a bowl of chirashi into his basket. His gaze darts quickly to the windows of the building. “Place’s no Sushi High Roller, but it should be an okay place to get _gyoza_ and coffee.”

      “That’s okay.” you say reassuringly, but then shudder. He then turns to you. 

      Alarmed, Nanu asks now:

     “What happened to your jacket, kid?”

      “I gave it to Acerola.”

      Nanu sighs. “Of course you did.”

      “Here.” he says, shrugging his rain-slick jacket off his shoulders, and handing it to you. Although his expression is opaque as always, the concern in his eyes is very genuine. 

     “Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. He nods, with a fondness that was surprising for him.

     The two of you continue to browse the aisles of the supermarket.

     “Oh,” you put a finger to your chin, and sneak a glance at the older man. “I just realized I never got you a birthday gift.”

     Indeed, there were many possibilities for gifts in this upscale supermarket. As you had browsed through the aisles, you had passed many rugs with patterns, which would be useful to hide cat hair, because the hair was less noticeable against busier prints (the closer the print was to the hair, the better). However, you didn’t know what kind of patterns that the man liked, if he liked any at all.     

Thinking on it now, because he had so many Meowth, he probably had synthetic fiber furniture that was easy to clean— the scratches and marks left by any Pokémon could simply be brushed away. All the upholstery would need then was a good wipe down with soap and water.  

You remember your mother using upholstery spray to treat the new furniture, good to battle liquid and stains left behind by your own pet Meowth. _Maybe that would do?_

     While perusing the shelves of canned goods, you watch Officer Nanu turn over a canned coffee with a dignified looking man smoking a pipe on its label. 

_No, it has to be something for HIM, not his Pokémon or the police station._

     Nanu then whistles through his teeth as he checks the price of this can of coffee. It’s clearly expensive. “Shame, that. And here I thought you came back to give me a birthday kiss...”

     You swivel on your heel to face him. “Do you want one?”

     “What do you think?“

      _I think that Tapu Bulu has the weirdest sense of humor, making you the island kahuna._ “I don’t know.”

     He chuckles, lets the question hang in the air. “Well, who knows for sure, anyhow...”

     “Wouldn’t _you_ know?” 

     “Reckon the burden of proof’s on your shoulders, not mine.”

     Grr. No fair. 

     You then laugh and give up. “The prosecution has no further questions, your honor.”

     A thought then occurs to you, and you quickly say to Nanu:     

     ”I’ll only be a minute.” He nods. 

     You then head over to the cafe section of the supermarket. The scent of the roasted coffee beans, ground into fine grounds warms your body just by the mere smell alone.

     “Hello, miss!” You’re greeted by a perky barista, her hair tied up neatly in a ponytail. “It’s rather late...”

     “Can I interest you in some local arabica beans?” the shopkeeper asks you. 

    You shake your head and ask, “Do you have any coffee machines?”

    She smiles, and directs you to devices with so many buttons and switches it made your head spin. The cost of the machines were  _nothing_ to shrug at, either— with labels that featured prices that climbed into the tens of thousands of pokédollars.

    Out of the corner of your eye, you then spot an odd metal device, sitting in the back of the cafe. It’s covered in dust from disuse.

     “What’s that?” You ask, pointing to the contraption.

     “Oh, that old thing?” she says, pointing to the machine in question. “That’s a coffee percolator— it’s very old-fashioned... It probably hasn’t been used since the 90’s! Most of our customers nowadays use electronic models now, but this coffee percolator needs a gas stove to function.”

    Sheepishly, she adds, “We’re having trouble giving it away, much less selling it.”

    “Anyways! Can I interest you in anything else?”

    You say suddenly, “That’s perfect.”

    She blinks. “Do you want this?” You nod.

    The saleslady briefly dusts it off, and breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you. We were planning on donating this to the local thrift store, but we were having trouble getting them to accept it... If you want it, you can go and take it!”

    After the sales lady packs up the device in a cardboard box, you quickly head over to the checkout line.As you hand the groceries to the overworked cashier, Nanu raises an eyebrow at the hastily wrapped box in your arms.

     “What’s that for?”

     “Nothing,” you say happily, and put some more items on the conveyor belt.

     A deep melodic rumbling sound like a cat purring makes you turn your head.

     “Something funny?” you ask, wanting  him to let you in on the joke.

     Nanu chuckles wryly. “Was just thinking you’re a strange sort of girl.”

     While you tuck away a container of _ahi poke_ into your bag, a smile breaks across your face. “And I was just thinking that you’re a strange sort of man.”

     “Hmph.” He gives off the tiniest hint of a grin.

 

* * *

 

The two of you return to the Po Town police station, the rain still unceasing all around you.

     Kicking the toe of your shoe into the rain-slick pavement, you say softly:

     “You know...”

     “When we planned your birthday party...”

     “I just thought... about what would make me happy, and I'm sorry." you say, and shake your head. "Being surrounded by all of my friends and having a party- I thought that would've been a great birthday...."

     “But I should have thought about what you wanted."

     “So..." you proudly hold out your package, a glint in your eye. “I got this.”

     His brow furrows. “What's this nonsense now?"

     “It’s...”

     “An old-fashioned coffee percolator.”

     “You’re always drinking Komala coffee, so...” you lean forward. “I thought you’d like this...”

     “The model’s old-fashioned and vintage, and it should be able to run on the stove in the station.”

     “So it’s been around the block a couple of times, is what you’re trying to say...” he says.

      “Well... like someone I know, it’s lasted a long time,” you smile. “And hopefully...it’ll be here a long time in the future.”

     “At least, I hope he’d stick around at least for a little while.”

     “Get it?”

     “It’s for your birthday,” you stammer, holding the box out. "Please take it."

     He sighs and shakes his head, all whilst taking the box from you. "Look. You don't need to be asking for this cranky old man's forgiveness..."

     “Okay, well, I hope you like it.” You smile.

     You quickly skip off the stairs of the entrance of the police station.

     But... you can’t help but turn around.

     “I—“

     He says simultaneously, “Sta—“

     “Wait.” 

     “No—“ 

     You laugh. “You first!”

     A low-pitched strain in his voice. “Stay."

     “Huh?"

     Nanu runs a hand through his hair and mutters. "Really gonna make me ask you again, huh?"

     “Girl, if you don't have anything better to do, you can..." he pauses, then exhales out. "...stay. I'd like the company."

    “Umbrella or not,” he then points out, “You’ll be soaked to the bone if you go out now. This wretch’ll put some coffee on to boil, and you can torture yourself with the ancient _film noir_ cassettes in the drawers.”

     “Okay." Still holding this feeling close to your chest, you only give a one word response, but hope that the bright eyed smile that spreads across your face reveals you had been hoping for the same thing.

As you unpack the food from the plastic bags, you set the percolator upright.  Despite its age, the coffee machine’s clearly well made— its handle made of cool, heavy steel is rustless and clean, the aluminum spout and body only nicked with a couple of scratches.

He scoops and levels off two portions of komala coffee into the basket of the device, the smooth, bitter and aromatic scent of which tickles your nose.

     As Nanu fiddles around with the percolator’s settings, your Rotom buzzes quietly in protest. “It would be better if it wazzzz an electronic model...” it points out. You put a finger to your lips.

     “Shh! This is nice.” You flash a smile to Rotom. ”You’re just upset you can’t inhabit it.”

     In no time at all, thepercolator finishes bubbling away on the gas stove, and a rich, heady aroma of fresh roasted coffee beans wafts through the air. It’s one that warms you up just by smelling it, one that lifts you up by the toes as you rock back and forth on your heels. You have the urge to curl up in the smell  and watch the rain run down the windows.

     Nanu fills his glass, empties it, then pauses.

     “Makes a real good cup of joe.... Thanks.”

     You smile. “I’m glad. Can I have some?” 

     He pours you a cup, but then pauses. “Hold on.”

     Rummaging through his cupboard, the older man then whistles through his teeth. “Shoot, I ran out of sugar. Knew this wretch forgot something...”

     “Oh, I can drink it plain.”

     “No, you can’t...” Nanu says, shaking his head. “It’s too bitter.“

     You cock your head to one side. “But I liked the Komala coffee you made me.”

     Shoving his hands on his pocket, he then mutters, “...sweetened it for you.”

     “Huh?”

     “The coffee I made for you‘s sweeter than I would’ve made it for myself.” he sighs, swirling the coffee in the mug. “Can’t stomach it... Doctored it up with enough sugar to make my teeth hurt.”

    You, however, laugh inwardly at the thought of the man emptying half the canister of sugar into your mug, his nose crinkling with distaste. 

     “Then next time, lets...” you lean forward. “...go shopping together, and get some more sugar.

    “Could always go myself.” he points out. 

    “It’s probably cheaper at the Thrifty Megamart.”

    “Tricky girl. Got a real good reason for offering, don’t you?”

     “Hmm... I wouldn’t say no to an invitation to Sushi High Roller,” you inform him, and he scoffs. “In the near future.” 

     “Hmph... We’ll see.”

     Refusing to budge, you stick out your hand. “Let’s shake on it!”

     “The nerve of this headstrong girl...” Turning his palms up despondently, Nanu looks skyward, as if to ask Tapu Bulu for some guidance or perhaps, to smite you with a well-placed attack. “Eating me out of house and home...”

     “Please?” You ask, clasping your hands to one side. Inwardly, you wish you could bat your eyelashes  _half_ as well as Plumeria. “They’ll probably give you a discount if I’m with you.”

     (You sincerely doubted that. If the clerks could give a bigger discount at the Thrifty Megamart, they’d probably have to start giving things away.)

     He, however, then barks out a strident laugh and gives you a firm handshake. “All right, all right, girl... I’ll shake on it. Are you gonna have those plates ready or are we gonna eat off the table?”

   You smile. “Five minutes.”

     After you gather the paper plates in your arms, you stop at the entrance of the living room, and smile from afar. The television’s on, and a old-fashioned black and white detective movie is playing on the screen. As he sits languidly on the couch, the older man’s lips mirror the movements made by the characters on the screen.

_He’s mouthing the words..._

     You take a seat on the couch. “Do you know this movie?”

     “Heh... Yeah, when I was just a boy, these movies were all I’d ever watch...” Nanu says. “Reckon I’d be just about the best detective to walk the Earth.”

    You settle into the couch, and watch the film noir movie with him. The plot takes a while to get going, but accompanied by Nanu’s commentary, you actually end up enjoying the movie more than you would have thought. 

     Your pocket vibrates, there’s a notification from Acerola. You turn to him.

     "Acerola just texted me and said she wanted to come over," you say, checking the display of your RotomDex. "Is that okay with you?"

     "No one asked her to, but I figured that kid would invite herself to anything," Nanu sighs, and takes the seat next to you. "....I'll leave the door open."

As the ambient noise from the television fills the room, a warmth settles itself around you, and you feel the gentle call of sleep call to you. Your head bobs up and down as you fight the urge to drift off to sleep. This, however, doesn’t escape Nanu’s notice, because he later remarks:

     “Sleepy, huh.”

     ”Only a little. But... I can’t fall asleep because...” you yawn, ”Acerola’s going to be coming later...”

     “No harm in taking a cat nap, girl. I’ll wake you up when she’s here.”

     You shake your head. “I can stay up a little while longer.”

     “Suit yourself.”

   “So,” Nanu asks suddenly, “who’s included in this plan of yours?”

     “Plan?”

     “Bound to get some funny looks at the restaurant if we bring your whole entourage along with.”

     “At Sushi High Roller? Hmm... I just thought we would go together.”

     “Who’s this "we"?” he asks now. “Got a mouse in your pocket?”

     “Me and you,” you say instantaneously, like there had been no other possibility in your mind. He blinks, taken aback.

     “Me and you, huh...” he repeats.

      _Is there something wrong with that?_ you want to ask, but you’re interrupted by the prompt ringing of the doorbell.

     “I’ll get it,” Nanu sighs. ”Probably Ace. Darn girl won’t stop for anything if you leave her there...”

     You nod. But after he leaves to answer the door, that dreamy hazeoverwhelms you, and...

     ....you fall asleep.    

     

* * *

 

      Only an hour later, you awaken on the couch. You peer around groggily. 

      “Heh. Well, well, sleeping beauty. Awake without even a kiss.” Nanu remarks from beside you. A slow, easy smile is spread liberally across his face.

     “Sorry, I was just resting...” you say, rubbing your eyes. “How long was I asleep?”

     “Only an hour.”

     “Is Acerola here yet?”

     “That little girl got here just as you fell asleep, carrying who knows what.” the older man rolls his eyes. “Little terror had something or other packed with her... Figured I shouldn’t get in the way.”

     Well, it’s not like Acerola would be packing heavy explosives, but you decide against interfering with whatever the young girl had planned. “Were you here all this time?” you ask.

     “Maybe.”

     You smile. “My hero.”

     “Don’t take this too seriously... Just so happens some little girl’s occupying my favorite spot on the couch.”

     “And you’re a gentleman.”

     He laughs, a sharp intake of breath. “You said it, not me...”

     You lean in. “I did say it, because I believe it.”

     Your heart jackhammers away in your chest, as he presses the bridge of his nose to your own. He brings his mouth closer, and it hovers just above your own, almost touching. His cerise-red pupils dilate, as he realizes the intimacy of the position that your bodies are in.

     “Heee~y!”

     Acerola wheels in a little cart and giggles. "I made us _all_ ice cream sundaes!"

     The two of you rapidly extricate yourselves from each other, and sit up on the couch. Your face flushes hot, and you turn away from the older man.

     "I only put _one_ scoop of ice cream in Uncle Nanu's bowl because he says he doesn't want to get fat!" the younger girl glares daggers at the kahuna, telling you everything you needed to know about what she thought of _that_. She then plops herself between the two of you. "Did you want any more chocolate sauce, big sis?"

     Your face burns, and you stare down at the ground. "N-no, that's fine."  
  
     She blinks innocuously. "Huh? Did I miss something?"

     Glancing at the television, you now see the ending credits rolling across the display. 

     “No, you're okay, Acerola! Let's put another tape in."

     Looking at his gaunt, lean figure, you think that Officer Nanu's the furthest you could get from fat without leaving the planet and going straight into Ultra Space.

     However, there's something oddly handsome, and strangely feral about his sharply defined features illuminated by the soft diffused light of the television screen. He then leans in and whispers his comments on the movie, but he leans in so close you're practically on top of each other.

     Perhaps noticing your eyes dart to and from him periodically, the older man says low, “Got something to say to me?"

     “You..." you rub the errant, sticky trail of chocolate sauce away with your thumb. "...have some hot fudge on your chin."

     He blinks, then gives you the tiniest tint of a grin. "It's good. Can you blame me..."

     You shake your head, and turn your attention back to the television. 

Just as clear as anything, you’re confounded by this feeling.

  _‘You and me.’_ The words had come so naturally that it frightened you.

     You now stand from your seat on the couch, goosebumps pricking every square inch of your skin. 

     “I'm going to get another bowl of ice cream," you say as you leap up from the couch, unsettled by your thoughts. "Do you want any?" You ask Nanu. He shakes his head.

     “Ooh, but _I_ do!” Acerola cheers, and tugs you by the hand into the kitchen. “Let’s make some more!”

     Laid out on the kitchen’s tiny countertop are cartons of various ice cream flavors, including but not limited to Neapolitan, Kalosian vanilla, and Cheri-vanilla swirl. Bottles of fudge chocolate sauce, Rawst berry topping, jar of maraschino Cheri berries surround these containers of ice cream. It is quite a sight to behold— the fudge sauce’s lid is popped open haphazardly; drops of liquid from the Cheri berry jar are spattered all over.

     No wonder the Kahuna had said he didn’t want to get in the way. He’d probably have a straight heart attack had he seen the mess.

     “Whoa, Acerola! Opening your own ice cream parlor?” You tease. She giggles in response.

     “Oh my gosh! You’d come?” the younger girl smiles for real this time, and you’re glad to see it. You nod vehemently. “Ooh! We could open a ice cream place in Po Town, and wear cute dresses!”

     “Wow. I bet you’d break every Pokémon Trainer’s heart wearing a cute dress like that!”

     “That’s so nice of you to say!” She giggles, throws her hands up in a pantomime of scattering confetti. “Hee-hee! I wanna wear a dress with red and white candy-stripes now!”

     “Why not?! Think bigger!”

     “Okay, um, a big dress?!”

     “Why stop there? The sky’s the limit when you’re dreaming about it!”

     “Okay, okay, um—“

     “This princess wants to wear...”

     “A big, floofy dress with lots of layers of chiffon and tulle and silk and velvet!”

     “That’s the spirit!” You laugh. “And what does the princess want on her sundae?”

     “She’d like the cheri-vanilla swirl," she says promptly, and you get to work scooping out ice cream.

     “Is Uncle Nanu okay?" she asks you suddenly mid-scoop.

     “He's all right now." you say. “I think he just likes it when it's quiet.” 

     She shakes her head. “Uncle Nanu’s really stubborn, but that’s why he needs someone to be there for him.”

     “It’s like what you said before about Professor Kukui, I think!”

     “Mm-hmm. I guess...”

     You look off briefly.

     “...we all cling onto the things that remind us of the people we once loved."

     Realizing this is all very mature talk for a little kid, you smile sheepishly and say, “Sorry.”

     She shakes her head. “My dad kept saying that I was his little princess, so I had to act like one!" Acerola then stares down at her empty bowl. "And now he’s gone. But... everyone’s always counting on me to be happy and keep smiling, so I can't be sad."

     "I think I understand."

     “I knew you would!" she says. Acerola then wipes her nose, and blinks back the water in her eyes.

     Her unhappy face just won’t do for you, so you take a napkin and dry her eyes. “Okay, no more talking about sad stuff. Don’t you want some more ice cream?”

     She nods emphatically, and you dig into another carton of ice cream.

     Suddenly, she says, “You know, it was a nice thing you did! For Gladion, I mean..."

     “Huh?" You ask. “You knew...?"

     “Mm-hmm.” she licks her lips, then says: “I think a lot of people in the League did."

     You don’t want people getting the wrong idea about your loss, so you shake your head. “I think you're just smart, Acerola," you say, scooping a portion of Neapolitan ice cream into her bowl.

     Her face brightens up. "Really?! You mean that?"

     "Yeah, you're super-duper smart!"

     She giggles, “That'll show Uncle Nanu- he's always yammering on about how _immature_ I am!" The younger girl then reachs over for the scoop, and spoons more ice cream out from the carton. "I think I want Neapolitan now... or maybe Kalosian Vanilla! Classy flavors suit a princess like me, don't ‘cha think, big sis?"

     You notice that the younger girl's got some cherry vanilla ice cream stuck to her upper lip. Laughing, you then wipe off Acerola's pseudo milk-mustache. "Well, _I_ think that princesses should wipe their mouths after they're finished eating!"

     Acerola puffs out her cheeks indignantly. "Oh, yeah?!" With her fingertip, she dips her fingertip into the carton of ice cream and dabs it on your nose.

     "Hey!" you protest, and swipe a nearby chocolate ice cream carton with your index finger, and smear it into her forehead.

     The two of you dissolve into giggling fits of laughter, and clutch your sides.

     A man then clears his throat, your heart briefly leaps a couple of inches at the recognition of his voice.

     You raise your shoulders bashfully. “Were we taking too long?”

     Nanu leans against the wall just by the stove, crosses one leg over the other.  “Was thinking the two of you got sucked into a wormhole or something ridiculous...”

     "Big sis was just saying how mature and smart I was!" Acerola chirps, and Nanu gives you a pointed look.

     "Don't you go filling that little kid’s head with hot air," Nanu mutters. Pointing out the smeared ice cream on your face, he chuckles. “Also doubt mature folks go around having custard fights."

     Acerola sticks her tongue out at Nanu. “Hmph! You’re such a party-pooper, Uncle.”

     Impulsively, you lean forward, and dab his face with ice cream.

     "Got your nose, kahuna!" You smile. “Now we're all immature. How's that?!"

     Nanu blinks, and the two of you exchange mischievous glances. He sighs, then smiles. "Honestly, you two..."

     Bursting out laughing, you clutch your sides, and a shadow of a grin comes over his face.

     It may be a selfish thought, but you wish that a night like this could last forever.

 

* * *

 

     Amidst the ambient noise, a flood of emotions come rushing back. Emotions he doesn’t care to remember.

     While patting his cat, he realizes he is thinking of you, and that soft, vulnerable  look tugging at your lips, as he had stroked the side of your face, touched that soft peach-fuzz skin, seen that pretty flush come over your face. The skin scent that clung to your body as you dressed his wound, that warmth from your hands as you traced the scars on his worn chest.

      _And you had reached for his hand._

     Closing his eyes, he remembers ten fingers entwined in a brief moment, remembers the skin between your fingers being soft. Softer than it had any right to be.

     But attempting to control these overflowing emotions would be like trying to hold back the tide. Like trying to restrain the sea’s waves with only rocks and feeble sticks. 

     It, then, should have come as no surprise that the barriers he had summoned out of thin air and even thinner excuses had dissolved in your wake. 

     His hand then reflexively curls in on itself, his knuckles brush against the fur coarsely. His Persian growls and bats away his hand with its paw. He laughs coarsely. “Too rough, right? Sorry.”

     Dammit, he was only HALF joking about that birthday kiss. Cripes, he wasn’t picky about where...

     (Well, there are _definitely_ some places he prefers over others. Don’t tell.)

     The scent of hot, freshly brewed coffee and vanilla-chocolate-strawberry ice cream wafts through the air, the sound of laughter rings throughout the building and quick footsteps. The television picks up a old-fashioned film noir movie. This precise feeling, encapsulated in this familiar scent, envelops him when he walks into the room. Like home is here all at once, like he is exactly where he needs to be, is meant to be, and...

     ...maybe everything will be okay, just this once.

     Walking into the station’s little dingy excuse of a kitchen, he spies two people, one a little girl and the other a pretty young woman, laughing in his kitchen, ice cream and chocolate sauce smeared all over their faces.

      _A family..._

      _Do you think you deserve something like that, 000...?_

He has selfishly found himself wanting for it.

     You lean over and dab his nose with a schmear of vanilla ice cream. The two of them double over laughing and giggling.

     He sighs, wrings his neck in embarrassment. _A joke at my expense, huh..._

     Nanu shakes his head, then laughs in spite of himself.

     That selfishness persists, and yet he wonders...

     “Now we’re _all_ immature. How’s that?!”

     “Haha!” you clutch your sides.

     Would it be all right if he were to call _your_ name? Is it all right if he hoped, in vain, that these happy days with you persisted, despite his greediness?

     He’s brought back now to the current moment with:

     “Nanu,” you say.

     Not Officer Nanu. Not Kahuna Nanu.

     “Do you mind if I call you that?” you ask now bashfully.

     Just Nanu. A name, free of all responsibilities and commitments.

     The older man gives a noncommittal shrug. “Fine by me.” 

      He then slowly, carefully says your name. “...right?”

     You blink. “That’s right.”

     “All right...” he grins. “All right.”

    Before he turns back to his spot on the couch, someone calls his name.    

     “Nanu!” you call out.

     He turns back and the face of the world’s kindness looks straight into him. 

     “I'm really happy.“

     He chuckles wryly. “...and what’s there to be so damn happy about?”

     You think on it for a bit, then say, “Because...”

     Because of this young woman who had stopped for a little while and reached her hands into the abyss where he lived.

     “...you let me say your name."

     And for one instant, that man is lost for words. 

     “Hmph. Told you not to wear it out,” Nanu says at last, and you let out one singularly honest laugh.

      _Shit, here I go._

     With the sounds of irresponsible, recklessly happy laughter...

     Such was the second time he’s fallen in love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes and Comments
> 
> *The supermarket the two of you visit is based off of the Foodland Farms supermarket in Honolulu. 
> 
> **The brand of canned coffee that Nanu’s looking at is Suntory Premium Boss Black! To my knowledge, the brand is very popular amongst Hawaiian coffee lovers, but it’s so expensive...
> 
> *** For those who don’t know, Johto is based off the similarly named region in Japan, which did donate cherry blossom trees to Hawaii a while back.


	17. Weeds Over Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wild things grow where the rain falls and are fed by the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s go.

     On the other side of the world that same night, the Cerulean City Pokémon Center is filled with the sound of a commotion.  
  
     Lillie smiles in that watery way that she’s generally been smiling at Gladion recently. Her brother is particularly peeved this evening, there is a stressed thinness in his voice that she recognized from Professor Kukui’s late nights at the Pokémon Lab. He had noticed her sneezing and coughing again.  
  
     Gladion scowls. “Are you even taking this _seriously?”_ _  
_  
     “Yes, of course.” She was tired of arguing and other patients in the Pokémon Center were starting to stare. They’d gone on like this for more than an hour now. “I-I don’t want to be a bother to you. Why are you upset…?”  
  
     He answers her as if the question was seriously meant. “Why do I do this?! Because even some _Pokémon_ have a better sense of self-preservation than you, Lillie!”  
  
     As much as she would like to be upset at her younger brother’s harsh tone, Lillie really couldn’t bring herself to be upset at him. Judging by his drooping scruff of blonde hair, her brother’s new job had been wearing him thin. Gladion had initially been pretty happy to have received the title of Champion, but her younger brother had no idea of what the responsibilities of the title actually entailed, leading to his initial disappointment. Almost none of the duties related to being Champion actually related to being strong, besides holding the title.

     “I will be fine! I… I have to make sure that all of Mother’s affairs are in order for when she returns to Alola…” she retorts. “If you want to help, you can always pay off the Aether Foundation’s dues—“  
  
     “Who even _cares_ about the Aether Foundation, Lillie!? You’re sick!”  
  
     “Listen, the Aether Foundation was our mother’s responsibility, Gladion. And now that she’s sick… it falls to me to be r-responsible….”  
  
     His hands then ball into tight little fists. “Arghhhh! Just give it up already! Lillie, I told you—if _you_ need the money, I’ll send you all I can!” There is no mention of their mother. Lillie didn’t blame him. Gladion had always been the “problem child” between the two of them, and when their mother had not resorted to sharp verbal abuse towards the disobedient boy, she had preferred to ignore him entirely.

     Their argument is stalled by a coughing and a hacking fit. Her brother’s tensed shoulders drop. There’s only so long you can be upset at a sick person.  
  
     “I’m sorry… I wasn’t there when you needed me, Lillie.” he then says quietly. “All I thought about was saving Null.”

     Lillie smiles gently at him. She knew he still blamed himself for what had happened. Despite her reassurances to her little brother, Gladion had still insisted on wiring Lillie money for her own treatment, as well as the money for research into her mother’s unique condition. She hadn’t initially mentioned her own deteriorating condition to him—Lillie hadn’t wanted to be a burden on anyone. If she hadn’t admitted to being in the Cerulean City Pokemon Center, then he wouldn’t have known in the first place that she had been sick.  
  
     “Don’t worry, Gladion.” Lillie wipes her eyes. “I-I’ll be fine.” She then sneezes and coughs, her body’s way of contradicting her. “I’m sorry I’m not more help…”  
  
     “No, you’re just fine, Lillie.” he says, looking guilty. Gladion then shouts,  “I-I know I might be busy being the Champion right now, so you don’t want to bother me, but… I’m going to tell you this just once! You have to take care of yourself, no matter what!”  
  
     “I-I fully understand, Gladion… Thank you so much.”  
  
     He gives her one final look as if he doesn’t quite believe her, but then hangs up.  
  
     After spending a good amount of time browbeating herself for inconveniencing her brother, Lillie sighs. She wishes she could have someone to talk to her. Kanto was still an unfamiliar, and truthfully, a frightening place, and this was her first journey. How had you managed? Many of the trainers from the Trainers’ school had given her odd looks when she had enrolled; she was five years older than them at the very least.       
  
     But she hadn’t called, because Lillie hadn’t wanted to burden you with her problems, considering the loss of your Champion title and subsequent announcement of your full-time work on Po Town.  
  
      It IS lonely here, though. Her brother calls at the same time every day, and Hau calls whenever he has time, (she had heard he busy with his training  to assume his grandfather’s position as island kahuna), and Professor Kukui called from Unova whenever his classes had let out for the day. It was a relief to hear from all of them, but especially the older man’s easy laughter and his airy, open presence.  
  
     At the end of every call, Professor Kukui would ask her if he had heard from you, or had talked to you recently. Before, Lillie didn’t think much of the man’s questions at all. She had been close to you, ever since learning of your shared background, what with dead fathers and all.  
  
      _Have you heard from her, Lillie?_   he would ask. _At all?_ _  
_  
     _No, not today, Professor,_ she would always say.  
  
     But a troubling thought now looms over her head. Just yesterday, Lillie had asked, _Professor, can’t you a-ask her yourself?_  

     He had frowned and changed the subject.

     Then, as if acknowledging his behavior was odd (it really _was_ quite odd) Professor Kukui then tacked on at the end, “Take care of yourself!” She smiled and said she would.  
  
     Initially, Lillie had thought that the behavior was very uncharacteristic of Professor Kukui; he was a man generous with his smiles and his knowledge, and even more so with people he considered his family. But even as she taken up lodging with Professor Burnet, and became her husband’s assistant for the year that had passed before she had moved to Kanto, Lillie realized that Burnet’s husband was a very easy man to like, but a very hard man to know. Professor Kukui hadn’t breathed a word of his plans for the Pokémon League until the construction for the organization had been well underway, instead preferring to speak in euphemisms about his dreams or quickly changing the subject if the topic had come into conversation.

     Lillie hadn’t pushed the subject, and scolded herself for even thinking to do otherwise. She shouldn’t have been so distrusting of his intentions. It didn’t mean anything.  
  
     It _couldn’t_ mean anything. Professor Kukui was married. Married people didn’t share their love with anyone but their significant other. She had then thought the professor would have explained his odd behavior to her, but this was something he chose to play close to his chest, folding his hand rather than reveal what had been bothering him.  
  
     Twisting, a woman she had once known as her mother now stirs in her bed, a shell of her former self. Lusamine’s attached now to an enormous array of devices and machines, beeping and whirring softly to their own internal mechanical heartbeat. A nasal cannula is inserted through her nostrils, giving her much needed oxygen. She hadn’t regained consciousness since her fainting spell in Ultra Space.  
  
     Lusamine often stirs in her bed; the doctors had informed Lillie to think nothing much of it, it was common for patients to move in their sleep, yet not come awake. Because of Lillie’s own illness, she was only able to visit her mother for a few hours out of the day.

     “Mother...” Lillie takes a comb out from her bag, and proceeds to comb through the knots, no one’s going to untangle her hair while she sleeps. Her beautiful blonde hair is caught in a nest-like tangle that would be an envy to most bird Pokémon.  
  
     After lethargically working the tangles out, Lillie fiddles with a lock of her limp corn-silk hair. Hapu had once called it lovely, but she was hardly feeling anything of the sort. She then produces a small jar of cornstarch from her bag. The nurses had given this to her to use as dry shampoo for her hair, and she would preoccupy herself with self-maintenance while she remained here at the PMC as her mother’s caretaker. Lillie would sometimes brush the powder through her bangs, as well as putting a bit on her roots when she would brush the length out.  
  
     A pretty nurse, her pink hair soft and bouncy (much to Lillie’s envy) knocks on the door and says: “Hello, Miss Lillie? There’s an older gentleman here to see you. Are you willing to accept guests?”  
  
     Her mother’s saccharine-sweet voice wraps around her again. _Don’t be a burden, Lillie._ _  
_  
     She curses herself now and her need to be oh-so-agreeable. Gladion would probably tell her later she didn’t have enough sense to be wary. “Yes, h-he can come in.”  
  
     The nurse then opens the door, ushers an older man through, and closes it quickly but carefully behind them.  
  
      A quick, brisk step underlies the man’s impatient gait. He has the self-assured walk and the muted wardrobe of a government employee, and the keen eyes of someone who had been working in the position for a long time. The sharpness of the cold air and the smell of cigarettes linger on his clothing. Judging from the looks of this man, Lillie guessed he was late-fifties, somehow older than even Officer Nanu.  
  
     “Miss... Lillie, was it?” he asks her, as he took the seat next to her. His voice has a certain gravitas to it, one that made you sit up and pay attention.  
  
     Despite the fact that she should be more cautious of this man, she found herself nodding. It was a breath of fresh air to actually talk to another person face-to-face again, besides Pokémon Center personnel.  
  
     “Oh...um… Yes, that would be me.” she says. “Can I help you?”  
  
     In lieu of an introduction, he turns his attentions to her mother. “It must be difficult for you.”  
  
     Lillie nods. “Seeing her in pain makes my own heart ache.”

     “I-I’m sorry, who are you….?”

     “Ah, I apologize. I’m a policeman, working with the Alolan authorities.”

      A chill runs down her back. “Oh… what can I do to help you?”

      After a brief pause, he says, “...I must admit, it was a surprise to see you in such a condition. I don’t wish to waste your time, nor exhaust you, so I will make my intentions clear,” he says.  “It has come to our attention that you and a handful of others have ventured into Ultra Space.”

     “Have you noticed anything... _strange_ after your arrival back? Perhaps, Pokémon _drawn to your presence_ , or any such odd phenomena?”

     “Um… nothing like that, no,” Lillie says. “I’ve only been feeling under the weather ever since I’ve returned. My Pokémon have only become agitated because I can’t battle with them…”

     Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, for he murmurs,“I see.” The older man then reaches into his jacket.

     A feeling like rocks in her skull makes Lillie nauseous. So, he _was_ here to arrest her and her mother for their role in their release of the Ultra Beasts. She should have expected this.

     She’s about to throw her hands over her mother and beg that he arrest only her, until...

     Until he does the very thing she would have never expected.

     “...I do apologize for wasting your time. Let me make it up to you.” The man says kindly. He produces a fine-grained black leather wallet from inside his pocket.

     Lillie furiously shakes her head. “I-I really couldn’t ask that of you….”

     The man closes his wallet with a click after taking a checkbook out from inside it. “How are the finances of the Aether Foundation?”  
  
     It was hard to admit, but ever since the debacle of her mother’s full-on psychological meltdown that had taken place just a few months prior, the corporation’s PR team had been working overtime. This ensured that Lillie, Gladion or the Aether Foundation were not caught in the crossfire of the public outrage directed their mother’s way, but along with their services came enormous legal fees, as costs for outreach and other such matters.

     She doesn’t answer. He then continues, “Regardless of you or your mother’s current circumstances, I would imagine that the corporation’s reputation is in need of repair.”

     Lillie blinks, the words form in her mind, _how did you know....?_ _  
_  
     The expression must have been apparent on her face, for the older man closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It’s not unheard of... There’s _another young woman_ in a similar predicament to yours, she’s the beneficiary to a large portion of Lysandre Labs’ assets and holdings. Unfortunately, despite the massive capital generated by the late entrepreneur’s corporation, most of the company’s assets hasn’t been able to be liquidated due to legal disputes and civil suits.”  
  
     The younger woman’s mouth purses up; it had been more information than she had been willing to divulge about her current situation.

     There was that, and also the truth of “ _my mother was possessed by a Pokémon obsessed with returning to the alternate dimension it called home, which is why she decided to destroy the world with her young son and daughter in it”_ not being an excellent legal defense.

     “Yes, well, it is very nice you decided to stop by and check on my mother and I,” prim-and-proper Lillie says, attempting to reassert control of the situation. “I must say we’ll be quite all right…”

     He’s _very_ insistent.  “The treatment for you and your mother is quite expensive, is it not?”  
  
     She deflates. It was. Bill had given his best efforts in trying to reverse her mother’s catatonic state, (he _had_ been transformed into a Pokémon after all) but at present, her mother’s condition had not improved.

     “I hope both you and your mother make a speedy recovery.”  He neatly tears the check off of its perforated edge. “This is for your expenses. I‘ll leave the amount line blank, so that you can fill however much money you’ll need.”

     Lillie bows her head such that she can see the polished linoleum floor underneath her. “T-Thank you so much... I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”  
  
     He waves a hand flippantly. “Think nothing of it.”  
  
    “Really?”  
  
    “Don’t you worry now. If we find your help necessary, we’ll certainly be in touch,” he says with a thin-lipped smile. “Make sure to get plenty of warm fluids.”  
  
    “By the way... How is your friend doing?” he asks now, adjusting himself in the chair. “The former Champion, that is.”  
  
    “Oh! I haven’t heard from her in a while, but last I heard...”  
  
     “I-I’m sure she’s fine, she’s with a police officer, too.” He tilts his head in a peculiar way such that it beckoned her to elaborate. “Um... Officer Nanu, I think it was...”  
  
     The man pauses; he’s heard the words somewhere before. _“Officer Nanu...?”_ _  
_  
     Lillie shifts. “Yes, you may not have heard of him, but he’s the kahuna of Ula’ula Island.”  
  
     Strangely enough, despite the brief light of recognition in his eyes, his face darkens. “Ah. Well.”

     After Lillie thanks him profusely, the older man gathers his things, then gets up from his seat.

     His eyes everywhere but her, he then says: 

     “Miss, you’ll pardon me saying so, but maybe your friend should rethink her trust in _certain people...”_

Lillie pauses. “Why would you say that…?”

     “Your friend strikes me as…” 

     “Strong and bright, and eager to build a life that she can be proud of.”

    _“It would be a shame if her life were to be blotted out by the dark.”_

 Lillie doesn’t know quite what he’s trying to say, but she nods. His tone was so grave and important.

     “Um....!” Standing up abruptly, Lillie then smooths the wrinkles out of her pleated skirt.  
  
     “Who should I...” she makes an effort to speak, it’s hard given her present condition. “I mean... My mother and I would like to know the name of our rescuer....”  
  
     The cigarette smoking man doesn’t turn around, but obliges her with:  
  
     “Consider it a generous donation from the _International Police,”_  he says, a smile creeping into the sound of his voice. “You folks take care now.”

 

* * *

 

  
     What fuels the intense hunger of undying greed?  
  
     Greed...  
  
     ...that gnawing, self-propelled instinct in some people that left them with this _"I want it, no matter the consequences"_ syndrome.

     A little seaside town in Alola comes into sight— the smell of that town at night still haunts the kahuna’s dreams, the scent of salt-water air mixed with soft spices from street vendors and palm trees.

     000 had no doubt anyone’d find those afflicted here. Greed had a habit of leaving some deeply embedded footprints in the soul.

     Amplifying this scent further is the shimmering heat. Island evenings tended to be unbearably, scorchingly warm. This night in particular was no exception.  
  
     000 sighed as he checked the time on his watch—his smoke break had come to an end. Plumes of sweet, fire-cured cigarette smoke surrounded him; the smell is a small comfort. 000 took the longest drag from his cigarette, prepared to go cold turkey for at least a couple of hours, then headed inside the skyscraper.  
  
     His entrance into the building is only punctuated by the sound of shuffling papers.  
  
     Humid air soaked through the tiny windows of the INTERPOL headquarters in Alola, the plastic chairs of which were filled with the asses of collectively-bored secret agents, all desperately seeking a solace from this oppressive atmosphere. 000 fell back in line with the robots as he sunk into his chair inside his tiny cubicle.  
  
     In truth, they had no right to complain. The higher-ups had only blessed certain agents with these late night shifts— a test to see who was willing to ingratiate themselves enough to the brass, maybe for a promotion, maybe for a relocation. Call it a polite form of self-imposed torture. And if it weren’t so damn depressing, their work would be commendable: they had their actions automated down to the dotting of their i’s and the crossing of their t’s.  
  
     “Data collection again, huh...” one agent wiped perspiration from his brow with his shirtsleeve, and 000 almost barked out a laugh—even this organic motion is stilted and drone-like.  
  
     “Least those folks can do is give me something to enjoy on my weekend overtime,” he sighed in agreement. 000 then studied each of the papers at his desk whilst simultaneously sipping his coffee. _Another 16 hour day with shit-all to show for it._ _  
_  
     “You know what the brass wants. All of this paperwork’s got to be filed by Monday. Do you all have a problem with that?” another agent asked, but it felt more like a reminder rather than a question.  
  
     000 understood this, and said nothing in response. He knew what they asked of him well. Paperwork with no “work” to fill the papers. Looking over the data, 000 now saw that their targets for managing the spread of UB activity had fallen well below their projected rate for the month, and their work was simply to fill in fraudulent reports that would make up for the discrepancy. Even if one privately disagreed, no one in the organization would say a word of protest. You didn’t want to get in trouble for refusing an order from a superior officer, lest you be charged with insubordination. No one would dare to raise their voice in protest, lest they become the stuck out nail to be hammered down.      
  
     But it’s so wretchedly hot it was difficult to concentrate— the cotton of his button-down shirt stuck to his shoulder blades and against his chest. Sweat trickled down his forehead, into his eyes and burned like ice.  
  
     “Get back from your mission already, 000?”  
  
     Island rum fumes quickly filled his space, joining together with the smell of musty, uncirculated air and stale, dollar-store cigarettes into a vile combination of liquor and smoke. 000 fought off the urge to retch.  
  
     Agents 501mv and 692ms (hereby dubbed Tweedle-dumb and Tweedle-even-damn-dumber) look over at him from their cloud of vile cologne. Patchy stubble marks 692ms’s unsuccessful attempt at growing a beard, like the Orre desert bush, the hair growing irregular in patches. He wears a similar outfit to his, except that 000’s suits were holdovers from his days as a detective long past (coffee stains and all), and this man’s suits had clearly been freshly lifted from some boutique designer label. 501mv’s got a chin that’s like pre-puberty, clean enough to eat off of, and a wispy head of hair that wilted from the heat.  
  
     Sometimes, INTERPOL would hire college interns, and these two field agents didn’t look much older. Unlike his subordinate 300ks (who was more similar to them in age than 000 felt entirely comfortable admitting), they acted exactly as one would have expected them to, given their inexperience. Yes, it was expected that they would want to get up and ahead with themselves by ingratiating themselves to their superiors, or at least staying in line by filling out half-decent fieldwork reports, but these two neither had the initiative nor the common sense to do either.

     000 doesn’t dignify them with his undivided attention. “Guess you could say that.”

     Opening his mouth had been a mistake. In the harsh glare of the lights they looked at each other vacuously, they had nothing of value to say, they had probably thought brown-nosing by mindlessly chattering with a senior field agent would make their records more padded. He then tuned them out, his life was made only more wretchedly miserable by their idle chatter.  
  
     Something even more annoying brings him out of his work for a brief moment. “You have the rookie, 000. She _put out,_ right? Hey. You think they’d put her on one of our teams?”  
  
     000 scoffed. Clearly they had never met the girl in person. “I’d like to say you can take her off my hands, kids, but she’s a real pain in the ass…”  
  
     “I’d like to be a real pain in hers,” he laughed, and shoots 000 a inside glance like he should have known what that meant.  
  
     He didn’t appreciate the man’s attitude, interrupting his work for schoolboy locker-room talk. “Hmph... No one wants to hear about that, boy.”

     “Why not? Come on. It’s drier than the Orre desert out here.”

     “Don’t know why you would want to hear about that from me when your boss’s doing enough of that for you...” he says. “You finished with your reports?”

     501mv didn’t choke or flinch, but there’s this slight stilted-ness in his movements that disappears so quickly that it would have been unnoticeable had he not been looking for it. The younger man enunciated every word, the resentment dripping like venomous honey from his voice. “That’s none of your business.”  
  
      _Guess not._ 000 turned his attentions back to his work. “Hmph… Maybe they’ll see projected figures‘re off and cut folks some slack.”  
  
     “Ha! A bureaucrat who’s willing to turn a blind eye for _our_ greater good? New recruit’s making a softie outta you, 000.” he said flippantly while patting his back, the gesture sent ripples of resentment up the older man’s back and into his brain. Kid didn’t even look like he was old enough to properly shave , and here he was insulting him. “Good luck. While you wait for them to say no, I’ll do things the old-fashioned way.”

     “You know brass only looks at the bottom line. You know, wheels and grease and such.” his companion sneered. 000 studied him. Inexplicably, despite his age the younger field agent had worked undercover for too long, and some of the grease had rubbed off on him.

     His skin crawled and it had nothing to do with the heat. “Sure. Whatever.” What else was he to say?  
  
     “Hey, didn’t they say that you were up for a promotion?” he said now. “I heard whispers... 000’s moving up and on with himself in the world.” A horrible shit-eating grin came over his face.  
  
     000 shrugged. “Just rumors... You know.”  
  
     Another man chortled, “Here it comes, Senior Field Agent 000, your new Leader of Investigations! Bet he can’t wait until HE’S the one bossing us around, right?”  
  
_Until I can, I’ll have to suffer you godforsaken fools._

     000, however, grinned. He wouldn’t let them rattle him. “That’s right... Bet you two fools’ll want to get in my good graces for the time when that happens, right?”  
  
     They scowled and returned to their cubicle.  
  
     “What a damn headache...” He twisted his wrist to check the time. “Cripes.”  
  
     000 adjusted his sitting posture down at the computer, the fluorescent light of which gave him the worst migraine imaginable. He regretted not taking a longer smoke break.  
  
     He then rolled his shirtsleeves up his forearms into tight bunches and got to work.    
  
     You know how this has to go. You know.  
  
     There was a squeaky wheel that demanded to be oiled.  
  
     So the Alolan public would sleep a little quieter, a little more peacefully at night, he would tell them that the monsters lurking in this teeming darkness was slain.  
  
     But the true monster was his boundless ambition, and it would devour him alive.

 

* * *

  
  
     A person that has lived in a dream may find it impossible to sleep.  

     As you lie awake staring at the ceiling of the Po Town police station, these sentiments echo in your mind as you think back on the thin chain of circumstances that had led you to this place.

     It had been too late to go home, so you had slept on the couch, with the kahuna abdicating his rightful place to sleep on an inflatable futon. Even though you had protested, he wouldn’t have it, and shoved a pair of clean clothes into your arms, all the while muttering something about how ridiculous it would be to sleep in wet clothes. You now press your nose into the shirt and breathe in the unadulterated, gentle fragrance of clean cotton laundry. The clothes are large on your frame, so much so that the shirt drooped to one side as you walked, leaving the other shoulder’s bare skin exposed.

     _You... and me._ _  
_

You were surprised at how quickly you had said it.

     You’re a little scared at that impulsiveness you had felt. In that moment, if he had said it, you would have gone anywhere with him. You can’t remember feeling that way since…

     You shake your head. Professor Kukui’s words are still fresh and warm in your mind, like the blood from a still perfusing wound. “We can still be friends...” 

     Maybe you were just misunderstanding things again? Putting your hands to your head, you try to organize your thoughts, but are unable to. You roll over on the couch.

     Thinking about these things now only gave you a headache. A _real_ headache.

     You find yourself unable to sleep, wide awake at the sound of your heartbeat in your chest, and the pounding in your head. But nothing had really happened yesterday, and so you had no explanation for this feeling. Taking care not to wake Acerola, who still slept on the other end of the couch, you then slip out of bed to clear your thoughts with a cup of coffee. 

     “Morning,” you say to the empty space of the police station. Nobody’s awake. The only sound that can be heard in the building is the soft purring of Meowth and the soft murmur-like breathing of the two people still asleep within it.

     You decide to enjoy these precious few moments of quiet. After opening a few windows to let the fresh air in, you look outside to see a muted grey sky that now beckoned rain. Spellbound, you stand there in silence for a few moments by the window, watching the humid fog roll past. It was almost like… 

      _Last night, I bathed in the night sky._

     If you closed your eyes now, you could just picture that wonderful frangipani garden by the sea in Malie City that had the most amazing view. The night blooming flowers surrounding you on all sides, the fresh scrubbed air by the sea amplifying everything.

     A brief sense of indignation fills you. How could the architects of the Malie Gardens displace the native flowers of the island?! There had to be a place for those beautiful flowers, even if during the day they were considered only weeds...

_“You’re too kind...”_

     Your finger traces the curve of your cheek where his knuckles of his fingers had briefly grazed it, and you feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest. It seemed so distant now, but you wonder if there was a way to bring back even a single moment from that time.

     You shake your head. _Stop being so sentimental!_

     You then yawn and stretch your arms. Sugar or not, a hot cup of coffee sounded very good right now.

     Dodging the many Meowth in the station, you then make your way to the station’s tiny kitchen. One of the Pokémon is curled up beside the still warm percolator, its belly no doubt warmed by the heat. The Pokémon yowls softly in protest as you attempt to remove it.

     “Shh,” you whisper, prying the Meowth off of its spot. “Let’s not make the kahuna upset, okay? He’s probably tired...”

     You find a pouch of Komala coffee open on the kitchen countertop, and inside the cupboards, a couple of chipped stained mugs. You get another spoon, scoop and level the coarse coffee grounds into the metal basket of the percolator, then fill it with tap water.  
  
     While the pot of coffee boils, your eyes quickly survey the kitchen. It probably had seen better days, what with the thin layer of dust covering many of the aluminum pans and the rust collecting on some of the silverware. Running your fingertip along the countertop, it becomes stuck to a splotch of dried, melted ice cream. Yesterday’s spread had been put away, but splotches of dried chocolate syrup and congealed ice cream had left marks on the counter. You decide to clean the stains away before the kahuna had to scrub his eyes out with disinfectant.  
  
     After wistfully gathering the last night’s dishes, you prepare the coffee in the percolator. Soon after, the invigorating bittersweet aroma of a big pot of freshly brewed Komala coffee fills the room. The sensation is like being wrapped in a soft fuzzy blanket from your house.

     You try a cup. The smell is unlike anything you’ve ever tried before— like those tasting notes on specialty coffee bags, the ones that say ridiculously overblown things like "chewy, with notes of chocolate, Meyer lemon and caramel"? With this coffee, you really could smell those things. It's pretty amazing.

     Until the bitter, murky aftertaste creeps up into your mouth and coats the inside of it like nothing else. Bleh. Coffee-sludge had been an understatement. Some sugar was definitely in order.

     Acerola then stumbles into the kitchen, her wide eyes still heavy with sleep. “Morning, big sis...” She’s got a look like a kid without a teddy-bear.  
  
     It’s kinda cute. “Good morning, Acerola! What can I get for you?”  
  
     “Cheri-chocolate chip pancakes, with lots and lots of syrup poured on top....” Acerola murmurs, still in her dreamlike sleep, and you giggle.  
  
     “Hmm, sorry, we’re all out of that! Can I get you a coffee while you decide on your order?” She nods. Unfortunately, there’s no sugar to be found, so you end mushing multiple berries for your bag and straining the juice into her cup.

     When you had finally made a coffee to the younger girl’s liking, the drink had a color close to a glass of eggnog and a sweetness not unlike the milk leftover in the bowl after eating children’s cereal with sugar heaped on top.

     “Did you make up your mind yet?” you ask her when you notice her mug is half-full.  
  
     “Um… what do we have?” she asks. You look more into the cupboards, and find nothing but cans of Seaking fish and evaporated cream.  
  
     “Well, we have Seaking fish, and...” you say, but as your voice trails off, her face scrunches up into a ball. _Not a good sign._ “It’s healthy! I’m sure I can make you something that fits into one of the main food groups.”       
  
     Curiously, Acerola tilts her head lopsidedly, like a Chimchar scratching the fur at the top of its head. “Food groups...?” she repeats.  
  
     _Oh no. Definitely not good._ “L-like the five food groups?”  
  
     Her tone suspiciously similar to a kid guessing on a test question, Acerola then asks, “Is maple syrup one of them, big sis?”  
  
     “Not exactly,” you laugh, but then gulp inwardly. Maybe the kahunas could meet and discuss an alternative curriculum to the island trials, because they weren’t really cutting it as of right now. “What else did you have in mind?”  
  
     She can’t think of much else. An idea then comes into your head. Even though you thought she had something more in mind like _haupia_ stuffed _malasada_ topped off with a generous dusting of powdered sugar, you offer, “How about a restaurant in Malie City?”  
  
     She yawns. “Restaurant?”  
  
     Despite your doubts that Acerola would agree to anything at this point in time not named a gigantic jar of sprinkles, you hoped her halfway-conscious state would tip the scales in your favor. “Mm-hmm. Like Sushi High Roller.”  
  
     Not sleepy enough, evidently. Her little smile curves into a frown. “Nuh-uh.”  
  
     “You don’t like sushi?” you tease her now, rummaging through the mini fridge for something for the girl to eat.  
  
     Acerola wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”  
  
     Oh well, there went that. Sushi plans nixed.  
  
     Then again, you hadn’t figured her the type to like fish (much less _raw_ fish), so you shrug.  
  
     Unsuccessful in your search, you then say to her, “Okay, you wait here. I’ll ask Uncle Nanu if there’s anything like chocolate chip pancakes floating around in the cupboards.”

     “Okay...”  
  
     Being the truly sensible young adult(ha) that you were, you march over to the _futon_ , ready to give the kahuna a piece of your mind. Even if you weren’t really the most grown-up yourself, you had to do something about this! Even if it didn’t seem the time or the place to give a lecture about the five major food groups, you had to stress the importance of older adults and young children alike having a balanced diet.  
  
     Which meant NO living off of packaged ramen, canned fish, and takeout. (Pancakes were an exception.)

     You say softly into the darkness, “Nanu?”  
  
     At first, he doesn’t seem to know you’re there. His body is curled like a cat into a croissant shape underneath a faded, shabby blanket with frayed ends. He looks strangely casual, dressed in just his red undershirt, and his black slacks. They’re wrinkled. His police shield and ID is on the countertop, a black leather wallet next to it. 

     His deep voice is hoarse with sleep. “Mmm…”

     You’re cautious to approach him because he still seemed too close to a man from a dream. “Good morning, kahuna.”

     “Who’s that…?”

     You lean in. Any other person’s facial features would be softened by their dreams, but Nanu’s… aren’t. There’s something very fierce and guarded about his expression, made even more so in his sleep. “It’s me, remember…?” you say.

     Seemingly put at ease by your voice, the older man’s facial muscles relax ever so slightly. He then mumbles, “Like the voice of an angel.”  
  
     You crouch down to the level of the futon. He’s so close, you could sneeze. “Nanu…”

     Until you realize he’s drooling into his pillow. Hello reality, nice to meet you.  
  
     “Wake up.”

     Nanu groans, rolls over and the thin blanket wraps around his body. “Or the devil... What’s gotten into you, girl?”

     “I was wondering if you had something like chocolate chip pancakes floating around.”  
  
     “And why in blazes... would you think I‘d have that.”  
  
     “I don’t, but I don’t think Acerola likes canned fish and melted ice cream.” you say, the sound of both together making you dry heave.

     “Why not? Fish’s good for her... All that sweet’ll make her teeth rot out of her damn head.”

     “I tried telling her that.”  
  
     “And?”  
  
     “Acerola doesn’t even know what the five food groups are.”  
  
     “I’m shocked.” he says, with a tone that only implied otherwise. The older man then breathes out. “Cripes, _this_ is what’s gotten into you, girl? How early is it? Go back to bed.”  
  
     You don’t budge. “Actually, she _did_ guess. One of them was maple syrup.”  
  
     “No wonder. Kid’s flapjacks swim in the stuff.” Noticing you’re not moving, the older man then sighs, “Look. That kid’s spoiled rotten... Wouldn’t advise indulging her, girl.”  
  
      _Says the man who bought her a ice cream milkshake yesterday._ “I need something to just…. Just to tide her over for now.”  
  
     Nanu finally heaves a resigned sigh. “Eggs and cream are in the fridge, but other than that you’ll have a helluva time finding anything else.” He then groans and turns over again, his scruffy hair brushes up against the pillow.  “Hold on… Just remembered. Box of cereal near the desk... _Pangoro Puffs_ or some nonsense like that.”

     “Do you remember where?”

     “Bottom drawer, second shelf, left cabinet...” Nanu says like he’s memorized the location.  
  
     “Okay.” Standing up, you then say, “Well, Officer, when you decide to feel a bit more human, there’s a pot of Komala coffee waiting for you on the stove.”  
  
     “Girl after my own heart. What am I gonna do with you?”  
  
     Unable to resist, you say over your shoulder, “You _could_ convince Acerola to look in the direction of a vegetable.”  
  
     “Ha! Have better luck getting my Persian to jump in the shower with me... And that pussycat really hates water.”  
  
     With a roll of your eyes, you leave the kahuna to wake up on his own terms, and look for the cereal. Sure enough, a box of cereal is located in exactly the place Nanu had said it would be in. You reach in and retrieve it, and inspect the label.  
  
      _Pangoro Puffs!_ Part of a nutritious breakfast. The Dark-type panda Pokémon’s doing a little dance on the cover while juggling a bowl of candyfloss-pink puffs. The jaunty smile on its face is not at all befitting of its personality.

     Relieved, you give the box a little shake, and pause.

     ...the cereal inside the box’s missing.

     You whirl around to see Acerola’s now eating it out of the bag, sucking away at the pastel-colored breakfast cereal with her fingertips until it dissolved in her mouth. At the pace she was going at, she would end up eating half the bag at the very least.

     Alarm bells go off in your head. _You’ll get a stomach-ache if you eat all of that at once!_ _  
_

     You COULD scream. There was a man in just the other room who was _definitely_ at least a decade or two your senior complaining about a reasonable time to wake up, and here you were, acting like the adult. You'd really chew the kahuna out later.

     “If you wait for a little bit,” you say kindly to her now, “I can try and get you something to go with that.” 

     You then herd the young girl to the table and set an old china bowl in front of her, along with a few berries and the carton of milk. If Acerola wouldn’t eat anything other than cereal, you hoped that she would at least be willing to eat it with some milk and fruit. “As leader of your kingdom, you must be willing to set an example for your subjects! I don’t think her subjects would appreciate knowing her majesty ate cereal straight out of the box…” 

     (You realize you haven’t exactly lead by example, what with having ice cream for dinner last night, but you hoped she would take your words at face value.)

     Acerola then makes a little pleading face like ‘do I _really_ have to?’ but you won’t be swayed by her expression, adorable as it may be. “It’s good for you.” you say firmly. “Do you want an Oran or a Mago Berry? Princesses have to keep their strength up…” 

     “In my kingdom, sweets are good for you and no one has to eat fruits or vegetables,” Acerola informs you helpfully.

     “Well, a princess wouldn’t want to waste away before she could meet her knight in shining armor!” Your ears then pick up the slow, quiet footsteps of the kahuna as he walks into the kitchen. “See? He’s r-right here!”

     Nanu blinks, rubs his eyes. “What….”

     Acerola laughs. “Uncle Nanu, say a romantic line!” He’s bewildered.

     “You’re supposed to be a knight.” you whisper to him.

     “A knight…. Is that right, girl?” Nanu whistles through his teeth as he pours coffee from the percolator into his mug. How he stomached the taste, you’d never understand it. “...so it’s not enough to give you the clothes off my back and the food on my table, huh?”

     You shake your head. “Nope.” You then lean forward on your chair to look into the red pupils of his eyes.

     “Because... what I really want is your heart.”  
  
     You sneak a glance at Acerola. “That’s a great line, right?”  
  
     Nanu snorts, “It’s just fine, kid.”

 

* * *

 

   Liberally greased with ultra-strong coffee, the wheels of your mind are set in motion as they turn in your head. On the ride over, your mind had been preoccupied with yesterday night’s events.  
  
   If they weren’t willing to keep the native flora and fauna of the island in Malie Gardens, maybe you could bring that garden to Po Town, instead?  
  
    That is, until you met the monkey wrench in your finely tuned plans named Guzma.  
  
    You see, being that Guzma held the self-appointed title of “destruction in human form and hardest guy around”, it was understandable that he wouldn’t be the most amiable person this side of the island to deal with. But you hadn’t anticipated how obstinate the man was.  
  
      And Officer Nanu being around just made the matters of his cooperation even more difficult.  
  
     Because, come hell or high water, the “hated boss who never lets up” would never, ever, consider snitching to or worse yet, COOPERATING WITH THE AUTHORITIES, SMELL ME?!  
  
      Especially if the authority in question was the kahuna of Ula’ula Island.  
     
      You sigh a little to yourself as you think back on it now.  
  
     After waving Acerola off to the Pokémon League, you had met Molayne at the gate to Po Town, a harried look on his face.  
   
     “What’s wrong?” you had asked.  
  
     Molayne sighed. His sandy blonde hair was askew and messy, his glasses cloudy with mist. “It’s Guzma. Plumeria brought him into the Pokémon Center last night.”  
  
     Knowing Plumeria, she had probably recruited (read: forced) the young man in her efforts to drag Guzma here in the first place. You felt a little sorry for him. “Okay, how can we help?”  
      
    Entering the Po Town PMC, you saw that two chairs and a table have been pushed together with a mattress and pillows piled underneath to form a makeshift bed. The haggard figure of Guzma sits on top of the bed. Ignoring his bad case of mussed-up hair, the young man had a face like something was eating away at him. He’s bent over what seems to be a bowl of oatmeal.  
  
    He didn’t look very happy about it.  
  
     Worse still was his choice of music now blasting throughout the Pokémon Center through a boombox next to his bed, some of which included some choice four letter words, including one that started with the letter “F” and ended with the words “—the police.”  
  
    Needless to say, the kahuna was not at all thrilled with his music choice.  
  
   Plumeria and a group of Punk Guys surrounded the young man.  
  
    “You idiot,” Plumeria hissed at him, jabbing her finger into his chest. “Just eat it, it’s like three bites—“  
  
     “I HATE oatmeal!” you hear him protest. “I’m sick, not DEAD!”  
  
     You can’t help but be shocked at the sight. “Guzma?!”  
  
    “Yeah! Big bad Guzma is here!” Guzma yelled. A brief smile flashed across his face.  
  
     But he then coughed, and wiped his mouth with a tissue. The area around his nostrils was red and scaly, his chest was sunken in like someone had taken a vacuum cleaner and sucked out the air from his lungs. “...That’s what I would normally say, but I’ve got no idea what’s going on with me or why I’m so freakin’ sick…”  
  
     “That’s why we brought you here, idiot,” Plumeria snaps, and earns a scowl for her efforts.  
  
    “You buncha misfits keep getting up in my grill,” Guzma snaps. “I told ya, can’t you just watch out for your own Pokémon and stay out of other people's business?! Geez!”  
  
     “We’ve been trying to get him to cooperate, but he won’t sit still…” Molayne explains to you with a sigh, and wipes his glasses. “Guzma’s very... stubborn.”  
  
    “What’s wrong with him?” You ask.  
  
    “We don’t exactly know...” the young man says. “And he hasn’t been the most forthcoming with the information...”  
  
     Contrary to your expectations, Guzma greets you with a smile. Odd. “I see… you’ve done some great work on the PMC!”  
  
     You ask, “Are you feeling okay?”  
  
     He peers around, as if to pretend he thought you were talking to someone else. “Who, this guy?! I’m fine! You know; I’d feel a lot better if you took care of me...”  
  
      He then grins. “Wow… You’re SO CUTE!!”  
  
      You laugh and excuse yourself.  
  
      Despite your best efforts to convince them, Plumeria and Molayne were both preoccupied with taking care of Guzma, and Guzma seemed to only be preoccupied with getting on the kahuna’s nerves. And a community garden needed to have the whole community involved in it, not just you and the kahuna (as nice as that might have sounded at the time).  
  
     It wasn’t going very well.  
  
     “Hey, kid! Come over here.” Before, you had repeatedly refused, and said that you had work to do.  
     
     But you’re at the end of your rope. You now say, “If I sit over here, will you listen to Plumeria and Molayne?”  
  
     Guzma grins. “I don’t really get you, kid, but at least this is a change of pace! Sure.”  
  
     Just when you think you’re about to be recruited into the role of Guzma’s caretaker, the older man then looks up from the newspaper he had been reading. “Hey... Punk. Leave that girl be.”  
  
    “Eh?!” he says. “What’s wrong, Officer? Just wanted to see what’s gotten his sweatpants in a bunch...”  
  
     Getting up from the wall, Nanu then says, “Because I’m _telling_ you to, punk,” as if that should have been the end of it.  
  
     Guzma stares at the kahuna for a second, then cracks the widest grin. He isn’t scared of him.  
  
    “Nope, I think I’m pretty comfortable where I am! I’ve got two pretty girls at my beck and call!” He motions to you and Plumeria. She scoffs.  
  
   Apparently your pleading glances aren’t enough to convince him, because Nanu rolls his eyes. He can’t be bothered. “Whatever…”  
  
    But then, as he passes by Guzma, he carelessly backhands his head with the palm of his hand, shoving his face into the bowl of mushy oats. You laugh.  
  
    Nanu grins. “Whoops... Sorry. My hand slipped.”  
  
   “What?! This is police brutality!” His head immediately rears back from the bowl like a dragon Pokémon snapping its jaws shut. His face is red.  
  
   “Do something!” Guzma snaps at Plumeria, who at this very moment has found something _much_ more interesting underneath one of her lacquered fingernails.  
  
   “What?” her tone is flat as can be.  
  
    The young man yelps, “You gotta STAND UP FOR YA BOY HERE, PLUM! You can’t just let me be abused...”  
  
   “Whatever,” she snorts. “Shaddup and eat. Dumbass.”

 

* * *

 

     Mushy-oat-face notwithstanding, the best solution to Guzma was to include him in your plans for the day, because you figured that many of the Punk people listened to his word above anyone else. This worked all fine and well for a time, until you told them of your plans for the community garden.

     In fact, when you told your (blessedly urban) friends about your memories watering the berry plants, the view of the flowers climbing over the trellis in the berry fields, and your plans to build a community garden, they all looked at you like you were insane.  
  
     “Eating _plants?_ From _nature?_ ”  two Punk girls whisper furtively.  

     “Ugh, who wants to eat yucky plants?” another Punk Guy chimes in.

     You were sure they’d all make Acerola a fine friend.

     Then, you had thought about reminding them of when Team Skull themselves had wanted the berry fields, but decide that a reminder of those days would only serve to further annoy them. 

     Running out of options, you now turn to Guzma. He’s helped on both sides by two Punk Guys.

     “Think of it as a silver lining!” you offer to the young man. “You can put different toppings on your oatmeal!”

     “...the only silver I’m seein’ around here is that old geezer’s grey hair,” Guzma mumbles, and mushes around his bowl of oatmeal with a spoon. Plumeria made the young man bring it with him because he hadn’t finished.

     After a period in time in which it seems that you’ve come to a standstill, the kahuna rubs his temples and says: 

     “Look, folks... YOU eat plants. From nature.”

     “Nuh-uh,” one Punk Guy retorts defensively.

     Nanu then gives the young man a droll look. “You there, boy... What’re you eating?”

     “A Poffin.”

     “And where do you think that came from.”

     “...”

     He then rubs his temples wearily, as if his being here gave him a migraine. “See. No such thing as a free lunch. Not unless you’re growing it, anyways…”

     After mouthing a quick _thank you_ to the kahuna, you then explain to them that in addition to providing food for the residents of Po Town, the garden would also serve as a form of gainful employment for the ex-Team Skull Grunts. The protests die down quickly after.

     Then there came the question of the plot’s location, which also brought concerns. Guzma, true to character, had not wanted to limit the community garden to a singular plot of land, and as such had resisted the idea entirely.

     Regardless of his present illness, he still gestures with his hands in a very Guzma-typic fashion. “Aww, kid! You don’t just plan it out, you gotta _do_ it, ya know?!”

     Molayne then asks, “So where do _you_ want to place the plot, Guzma?”

     (Nanu frowns like you all shouldn’t even really have been considering the young man’s opinion.)

     “Well, uh…! Let’s put the berry plants like all over! Every space there’s a little dirt or some stuff like that, bam! Berry plant.”

     Plumeria then points out,  “Then there’ll be bugs everywhere.”  
  
     Guzma grins. “I know.”  
  
     Plumeria rolls her eyes like she’s heard this before.

     “That may not be the best strategy...” Molayne points out. “Maybe we should follow Malie Gardens’ design…?”

     You don’t really like the sound of that. In the city, there is a desire to standardize and sterilize everything, to eliminate the weeds and make everything _just_ so.

     But you wanted everyone to love Po Town because it’s idiosyncratic, exactly _because_ things don’t make sense, because they’re flawed and dysfunctional. “I think the community garden can be wherever you want it to be,” you say.

     Nanu raises an eyebrow at you. Well, maybe not ENTIRELY dysfunctional. “B-but maybe it’s better to put the plot somewhere that can grow the most berries.”

     Molayne nods. “Hmm, you may be right. I’ve heard of something like that. You wouldn’t want to disperse the berry plants everywhere…”

     “Why not! All bugs are good bugs,” Guzma laughs.

     Nanu sighs, “It’s common sense. If you’re gonna grow your own food, you don’t want to go hunting around for it... Less hassle to make it one big plot.”

     “The kahuna’s correct. Also, only some of the bug Pokémon will fertilize the plants— the others might eat the plants and berries,” Molayne adds. He then turns to you. “If you don’t want to follow Malie Gardens’ blueprint, I suppose that’s all right, Champ. But… Po Town has a pretty unique environment. Do you have something else in mind?”

     The young man was, of course, referring to the constant thunderstorms and flash floods that plagued the area. You could only imagine your efforts of the community garden washed away in the torrential rain (that sneering paint skull only stuck in your mind). “How about a _rain garden?”_  

 _“Rain garden?”_ you hear puzzled echoes from the crowd.

Their confused stares asked you: _“What grows in a rain garden?”_ _  
_ _  
_ You had heard of the topic before, in one of Professor Kukui’s books. But you had just blurted out the words without giving it a nary thought.  
  
     You whisper, “Rotom, a little help…?”  
  
     "Right ahead of you, partner!"  
_  
_ "Bzzt.. There are zzzeveral varietiezzz of berry that can tolerate extreme humidity and rainfall, and can be planted in a rain garden," it buzzes, looking up the information on its display. "Zzzuch azzz the Iapapa, Hondew, Watmel, and Qualot berriezzzz."

     Now you remembered. Instead of constantly battling the elements, as you had tried (and failed) to do before, instead, you argue, you would use the town’s environment as an asset to the garden instead. It was true that many plants died from overwatering or root rot, but others even relished the constant rain and overcast lighting brought on the area’s troublesome climate and location.

     And that, was that.  
  
     After determining a suitable layout for the garden and setting aside individual plots for each of the residents, you get to work mowing the grass with your Rotom-C, and clearing the land for the fields.  
  
     As you clean and clear the site with your companions, the warm, humid air of the garden plot surrounds you, rich with damp soil, growing things, and the sudden rain of spring. It really smells like a garden on an overcast day. The moist, loamy dirt and decomposing palm leaves are soft under your shoes.

     “Want to help?” you ask Nanu as you empty black potting soil into the raised beds. It would be a good idea to place flower or shrub beds around the visible perimeter of the garden. He responds with a shake of his head.

     “Don’t look at me, I’m domesticated.”  
  
     You frown and scatter berry seeds into the soil. In a strange sort of way, you admired these simple seeds. They didn’t _have_ to explain to anyone what was growing inside them— instead they would gracefully accept the loss of what they had used to be, and then display a sort of bravery with which they would show the world their newfound blooms. It was a strange, but ultimately dignified thing.  
  
     Which is why you can’t understand it when Nanu refuses to participate. You say, “I thought you said that all the food we ate came from nature…? Do you really like the city?”  
  
     He shrugs again. “Tolerate the city fine, but the folks shudder whenever the thought of eating things not from supermarkets comes into conversation.”  
  
     That simply won’t do, when you’re carrying a heavy bag of soil, an idea forms in your mind.  
  
     You shift weight off of your good hand. “Kahuna... I could… use some help carrying this…”

     The older man raises an eyebrow. He’s not convinced. You stumble a bit to sell it. “Please?”

     He sighs. After demonstrating proper lifting technique, he then goes over to his spot on the wall. You frown.

     After walking, say, 10 feet from your location, your knees buckle, and you drop the supplies.  
  
     Nanu sighs. “Let me help, kid… You’re going to pull something important.”

     He points to your back, looking bored as always. It hadn’t been the first time he’d done something like this. “If you want to lift, don’t bend so much at your waist... Lift with your lower body, not your back.”

     He then assists you in emptying the bag of dirt into the garden bed.

     “Thank you,” You say. You then laugh, and reveal the arm you hadn’t been putting weight on. “Very much.”

     Nanu runs a hand through his silvery hair, incredulous at the trick you had played on him. “Got me there, didn’t you?”

     You laugh and nod. “But… You know, if we do this together,” you say, steepling his hand together with your own in a sort of hand-bridge, “It’s less of a burden for both of us.”

     He stares. You then realize this is not the first time you have reached for his hand, and become embarrassed. “Sorry.”

     A while later, after you had shanghaied the kahuna into participating in the garden work, some progress had been made on the plot, you hold out your arms to make a frame, and stick out your fingers to frame the garden in progress. A sign for the garden sits in front to let residents know it was a neighborhood project. You’d all come up with a name for it later. “Okay... Looks good!"  
  
     "Nanu?" You turn to face him fully.    

     "Mmm."

     “How does it look?”  
  
     He grins, and folds his wiry forearms across his chest. “Looking good.”

     To you, this was more than just the word _good._ Beneath the freshly cut green grass, there is a whisper of the smell of upturned spring soil, and you knew in no time at all, dewy shoots of berry plants would shoot up through the dirt, sending their greetings to all the world.

     “It’s like the plants are curling up its hands and saying,” you laugh, “Hello, nice to meet you!”

     Smiling widely at him from the garden bed, you then laugh, "We make a pretty good team, right?"

     His hand twitches as if to stroke your hair, but at the last moment, Nanu brings it up to rub at his jaw. “Guess so.”

     This gesture does not go unnoticed by Guzma, whose sickness had improved significantly from the smell of the fresh greenery. His eyes dart from you to the kahuna.

     “Oy, old geezer, isn’t she a little _young_ for you,” Guzma now whispers to the older man, elbowing him in the ribs.

     Nanu frowns. “Stop talking nonsense... She means the garden.”

     While you take your Wailmer pail to water the seedlings, you notice that they’re caught in a rather intense muttering between themselves. You then dust off your clothes, wondering what’s got the two of them looking so intently at you. “What’s wrong?” You look up from the garden bed and at Guzma and Nanu. “Is there something on my face?”  
  
     Nanu snorts. “Nothing. That punk,” Then shoots a pointed glance at Guzma. “...was just leaving.”  
  
     “What?!” he protests. “I haven’t been here _five minutes_ and you’re already tellin’ me to get lost?!”

     “That’s right, punk... Scram.”

     “Wow, this old geezer...” Guzma guffaws. “You know, now that this guy’s thinkin’ ‘bout it—“

     He saunters over to you, throws an arm around your shoulder, and whispers:

     “Ditch this old geezer and come with me! All of my parts are still working, if you get what I mean—OWW!” Nanu pinches Guzma’s ear, yanking him away from you and upending his head as it twists to one side. “You can’t do that, I’m practically on my deathbed here, you bastard!”

     “Funny how _I'm_ the old geezer, yet _you’re_ the one eating that mush, son...” Nanu snaps, unwilling to let go of his ear. “Why don’t you sit down, shut up, and eat your damn oatmeal.”

     “ _Son?_ Old geezer, half the time I doubt you know who I am, and now suddenly I’m ‘ _son_ ’?” Guzma snaps. In lieu of a reply, Nanu frowns and twists his ear even more. He yells in pain.

     Her eyes briefly flitting to Nanu and Guzma, Plumeria whispers to you, “Men.” You suppress a laugh.

     “Uncle, uncle! I _give_ , okay?! Gah!”

 

* * *

 

     When the majority of the groundwork on the community garden is complete, the moon has settled over the town, and reflects over the puddles of water left by yesterday’s rain. Sweet bonfire smoke and burning leaves wafts through the center square, carried by the cool breeze blowing through. The stars shine overhead.

     A pile of blossoms from the now blooming berry plants is heaped next to the crackling fire. Plumeria and other Punk Girls sit pretzel-legged in a circle around its warmth, some braiding hair, others making _leis_. The essence of the variegated tropical flowers is carried by a gentle, damp wind.

     Moonlight shines on the dew of the wet spring flowers. Yellow frangipani blossoms dry in the open air, along with various other island flora and fauna, such as large pink hibiscus blossoms, silky tiare flowers, bright purple _leilani_ flowers, creamy white pikake and _na’u_ blooms, and palm leaves. 

     Plumeria greets you with a nod of her head. “Yo. During the Ocean Arts Festival, you give a _lei_ to the people who’re special to you.”

     You murmur, “So that’s what all the flowers are for…”

     She nods. Spreading her arms out wide, Plumeria then finishes, “If we’re gonna open up this place to the rest of Alola, we’re gonna do it right.”

     “No fake crap!” A Punk Girl yells, holding up her genuine flower _lei_ , and you laugh and nod in agreement.

     Turning to you, the young woman then says, “Don’t just stand there. Come and make some _leis_ with us, _wahine.”_

     Taking a seat next to her on the pavement, you watch the young women string together the flowers for their _leis._ Some girls make them out of paper, the older women make them out of money and beads, and the young women pull together varieties made of the plant blooms. Plumeria’s hands are particularly deft, you watch her soak the stems of the flowers so they become more pliable. She then threads the large and small blossoms together, creating a beautiful, many-colored lei. “Hey _._ You try.”  
  
     Clumsy and awkwardly, you reach for a bunch of flowers, and your fingers attempt to mimic the fluid movements of Plumeria’s fingers. You hold up a pale imitation of her own _lei_. “Ta-da.” A large pink hibiscus blossom then falls off the end of your string. “Or not."  
  
     Plumeria laughs. “Nope.” She shows you again, this time more slowly.  It’s much more difficult work than you anticipated, her nimble hands made it look as if it had not been any effort at all.

     “It’s really easy— but you have to make your own! Don’t copy mine.” she says whilst stringing the flowers together. You watch, and notice the less experienced girls made leis from medium-sized flowers with sturdy stems and durable petals, and threaded thin fishing wire straight through the center of each flower. After explaining that flowers with delicate petals that fall off or bruise easily were not a good choice for a _lei_ , Plumeria shows you her second _lei_ , decorated with baby red hibiscus flowers and fuchsia-pink frangipani blooms. The young woman then shoves your nose under the frangipani. It’s very sweet, almost to the point of being fruity. “That’s me. Plumeria.”

     Attempting another lei, your hands find subtly cream-colored flowers which you had found the most sweet-smelling. 

     “Does gardenia work? I made this,” you say, holding up your _na’u_ lei in front of you. Some could call the flowers plain given their monochromatic appearance, but their soft cream-white color was very attractive to you.

     The young woman gives it an appraising glance, then grins. Somehow, the expression seems at home on her, despite the often fierce-eyed glare present in her eyes. “Not bad. Were you gonna give it to someone?”

     You suddenly become hot-faced. “I was thinking… maybe the kahuna?” 

     “That fits.”

     “You think so?”

     Plumeria cocks her hip to the side, then rests her hand on it. “Yeah, that old cop is as _haole_ as they come, but he’s got an Alolan name. _Nanu._ They’re these flowers.” She points to the thick blooms of beautiful white gardenia, flush with a waxy, pleasant fragrance. “Nanu.”

     She then muses, “You’re lucky. Gardenia tends to bloom _in time with the full moon.”_  

     A thought then suddenly occurs to you. “What do you do after you give someone the _lei?”_

     “Then they invite you to dance with them.”

     “Oh.”

     “It's fun! It’s supposed to emphasize your appeal.” a Punk Girl says. 

 _Parts? Appeal?_ Why is everyone talking in circles around you? 

     “You know, your appeal.” Plumeria whispers.

     You stare blankly at her. “Appeal...?”  
  
     “Duh.” Plumeria pops a bubble of gum. “Ap-PEAL.”

     A fog settles over your thoughts. _Contest appeal? They don’t have contests in Alola..._ “Like, uh...?”  
  
     A fierce whisper in your ear. “You know what kind of appeal!”

     You really didn’t.

     ….but then why does it feel like all the blood in your body’s rushing to your face? 

     “I don’t think I have _much_ of that kind of appeal...!” you then stammer.

     “Of course you do!” Plumeria snaps. “You’ve got a pair of legs and a brain, dontcha?”

     “Here!” she motions for a Punk Girl to begin to play music on the boombox. “Let’s all practice dancing for a bit. I’m bored of making all these _leis!”_

     Despite your misgivings, after donning a traditional skirt made of straw and palm, you join the women in their dancing.  Sparks of fire rise up into the cool night air.

     Accompanied by a wild, rhythmic drum beat, you become one with the music, and...

     ….that’s when when this fear of embarrassing yourself began to lift from your mind, and in its place, came the most wonderful feeling. As you put your arms out, splaying your fingers as you twirl and twirl and twirl, a manic, deliriously happy sensation comes over you.

 _Is this then, what love feels like?_ _  
_ _  
_      A endless dizzying feeling you couldn’t stop for anything— despite the fact that, at any moment, you could _fall to pieces?_

    The gardenia lei around your neck sends a heady fragrance as you dance. Though the flowers only came in a pure white, the aroma is intensely rich, with a lush, narcotic fragrance. Just then, for this singular instance in time, not a thing in the world can reach you.

     Except.

     Except that man’s face.

     The thought of Nanu arrives suddenly and without warning. As you dance, it is simply there, occupying space in your mind, and you realize you’ve been thinking of him the entire time.

     Surrounded by the long shadows cast by the bright amber of the bonfire, the older man meets your eyes and returns it. It is a glance held too long that crosses a line. His hot gaze burns your skin.

     More and more drunk with this mood, you continue to dance, but the sensation’s too strong, it becomes overwhelming, you’re too dizzy and it’s your first time dancing—

     In a frenzy, the music reaches a fever pitch, the frantic drum-beats beating in timing with your own heart, and you lose your balance, tripping over your own two feet.

     The music then comes to an abrupt halt, and the world whirls around you in a nauseating amalgamation of bright red, orange, brown, blue.

     Running to your side, Plumeria asks, “Hey. Are you okay?” 

     Amidst this all, Nanu still looks at you, a fixed point in your turning world. Unable to endure the intensity of his gaze, or perhaps the intensity of your own thoughts, you look away. 

     “Are you okay?” she asks again. You can’t answer, because...

     You don’t know.

     You don’t really know.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes and Comments 
> 
> Na’u/Nanu: otherwise known as Hawaiian gardenia, it is a native Hawaiian plant in the coffee family that can be found on the federal list of endangered species. 
> 
> Leilani: otherwise known as the “heavenly flower”, it’s Alola’s state flower, and distantly related to plumeria and hibiscus flowers.
> 
> Lei: a wreath of objects (most often flowers) presented upon arriving or leaving as a symbol of affection. They’re also donned during festivals and luaus.
> 
> (SIDE NOTE: Thank you for 600+ kudos! (b~_^)b 
> 
> I’ve been pretty busy these days, so I haven’t been able to respond to your lovely comments. I’ll get on that ASAP! Thanks for the support!)


	18. Galeophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I may eat you alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, well...
> 
> Look who decided to show her sorry face! It’s me! (Who else?) Thanks for all of your support in between updates! I’m trying to juggle real life and writing, but it’s a work in progress...
> 
> m(_ _)m
> 
> But know that I always appreciate your feedback, and I sincerely apologize for not having gotten to all the comments left yet on the story— I will eventually.
> 
> (Also— I have a Ko-fi account now! Link’s in my profile. Donate if you want to help fund my obsessive coffee habit, or not. Haha.)

     “Are you okay?” Plumeria asks again, concerned. You had been standing there for so long, and trembling so hard, that you almost dropped there on the spot.

You nod, but then turn your attention to the kahuna. In fact, Nanu was gone, disappeared completely from that spot, as if he had never been there watching you at all. Gone before you could blink was the amber glint alight in his eyes, piercing and flint-hard through the dusty black smoke.

In an attempt to restore your bearings, you dance a little, trying to warm your feet. As the feeling returns to your body, the scenery of the town square comes back to life around you, the smell of the flowers so strong you felt dizzy— you had to sit down, and if you didn’t, you’d faint, right there on the floor in front of everyone.

“Why don’t you have a seat,” Plumeria says. It’s not a question. You nod again, and decide to find a seat to rest.

You find the kahuna, sitting underneath the shade of the palm. Two palm trees tower over a nearby bench, but provide little respite from the heat. A few paces away from the town square, Nanu sits comfortably on the bench there, as if he belongs to the night, and the darkness that surrounds him. As if the long shadows weren’t cast by the dancing flickers of the bonfire, but rather by the man himself.

You smile at the sight. “Found you.”

You then take a seat next to him, and notice his familiar mug of smoking coffee in his lap. Nanu puffs out a breath. “Where’d you go off to?”

So it had been a trick of the firelight, his intense gaze. Trying not to seem too disappointed, you laugh carelessly while taking the seat next to him. “Plumeria was teaching me how to dance, but I think I dislocated my hip.”

“I do that before breakfast, it pops right back in,” he snorts.

“You won’t join us?” you ask. Nanu shakes his head.

“Prefer sitting here...”

You look off at the chattering throng of people. They’re now talking amongst themselves, having also tired themselves out from dancing, now choosing to tell folk stories all around the fire.“All alone?”

“Alone doesn’t have to mean lonely, girl.”

“But are you?”

Nanu shrugs. “Doubt those folks are missing me much…. my dancing’s rubbish.”

You frown. He couldn’t be that bad at dancing, you figure, but you then loop off the _lei_ around your neck, take it off and hold it out to him.

“I thought of you.” you say while holding up the stark white of the gardenia lei. The seashell-shaped gardenia buds had unfurled into velvety soft flowers in the warmth and humidity of the early evening. You carefully gauge him for a reaction. “Gardenia… they’re for your thoughts.”

Nanu’s silent. He’s still turned away from you, but you could swear that he’s moved a little closer now, but remains in the shade of the palm. You can only pick him out by the red glow on the end of his electronic cigarette.

He suddenly asks you: “Do you know what these flowers are for, girl?”

Befuddled, you tilt your head to one side. _What they’re for? What kind of question was THAT?_ “They’re for you, kahuna.”

Unsatisfied with this response, he shakes his head, and his voice then takes on an edge flint-hard, like a serrated facet of black volcanic stone. “Hmph. These flowers…”

_“...are for regrets.”_

A cold, distant look suddenly comes upon him, and you’re struck by that same haunting lonely feeling you had felt on the beach on the edge of the city; that feeling of solitude and space and the waves tumbling up onto broad, sand-white seashores.

And you feel the impulse to reach out again.

But as you have half a mind to do just that, you’re interrupted by the call of another, older woman’s voice, her voice even louder than the other people telling folk stories:

“Those stories are all well and good, but… Have you all ever heard of… _The Shark-Man, Nanaue?”_

 

* * *

 

You blink. You hadn’t recognized the woman before, but the sudden silence that comes over the crowd of people informs you of her importance, and you cease talking. The old woman then begins:

“The Shark-Man, Nanaue, that man of loneliness and mystery, has a long history in Alolan culture, and it’s not for the faint of heart, as it is at times tragic.”

     “Now this’s a story passed down to me by my grandmama’s mama’s mama’s second aunt twice removed, so some details might be messed up. Once at a _luau,_ my grandmother found out that I had been swimming in Kala’e Bay after dark, and she yelled at me and my friends unlike anything we had ever heard before:”

“Listen here, you good for nothing _tita!”_ she said. “Inside the sea lives a malevolent, hideous _manohae!_ And I’m not yankin’ your tail, girl— I’m saying he _exists!”_

“But that lady had never seen this monster, so I thought she was just talkin’ story to pass the time…People always said he went out at night when the moon was down, lurked in the intertidal zones where island people were said to never go fishing.”

“This was not so, for my own mother told me of a terrible fate that had awaited for my ancestor, Linne. She would often venture to a distant cove where he would lurk, which was surrounded by tall rocks, and hidden within it, a small beach to take in the sea.”

“Now, you see, my ancestor, this young woman, Linne, was very pretty and strong, but also very naive and foolish, who used to visit these tide pools. Because, sometimes, she needed to go out to the open waters, to be as far away from civilization as possible to fully relax.”

“That young woman and her girlfriends would pick bunches of gardenia flower for boys while those young men _lelekawa_ into the sea. The brilliant green blue waters of this beach paradise were hidden by steep, dangerous cliffs, and only accessible by the rocks or by sea.”

“That young woman was really skilled at jumping into the sea, so she would sometimes hunt for paua shell on the sea bottom. Once, she saw an exquisite pink and blue _paua_ shell on the sea-bottom. She dove for it.”

“It seems Nanaue, a hideous man-shark, had noted the charms of the beautiful Linne, and his heart had been captured by them.”

“Linne was used to running on beaches, where the hot sand gave way under your feet, but was unaccustomed to the wild tumultuous surf on this certain occasion. Because of her foolishness, she dove for this shell, and was all of a sudden caught in a mighty storm.“

“She gasped for air, and just as she was to sink to the deep sea, she found herself rescued by this monster. Without the prompt and effective assistance rendered by this handsome stranger, she would have been surely swept out into the sea.”

"My! What a good diver you are," said the young woman in surprise. “I thought I would certainly have been lost.”

“All the better to save you," said the man-shark. “What is your name, fair maiden?”

“They were introduced to each other. Nanaue then questioned her habit of diving for _paua_ shell, and Linne said that her family had fallen on hard times recently, and diving for these precious shells helped to support her family’s livelihoods. Instantly smitten, he said that her burden would be certainly lessened if he were to assist her, because she would not need to fear drowning in the tumultuous surf.”

“Linne told him she would think on it, and he told her that if she were to accept, she should meet him by the gardenia bushes that grew near these tide pools.”

“As she held the shell, it was smooth and hollow in her hand all the day. The young woman decided it was a lucky charm, and that she would keep it. Paua shell, she knew, was a rare type of abalone known for its iridescence. Sea opals would fetch a good price at the market.”

“She took out the shell from her pocket. This was her prize. It was the most beautiful thing in the world, and she had it now. It was thick with nacre, a pearlescent sheen found on the inside of certain rare shells.”

“She then met Nanaue later that week, who then made this habit of helping her dive for _paua_ shell in the late evenings, and an acquaintance between the two of them was formed. Linne met the stranger from time to time, and finally had it in her mind to become his wife.”

“One day, the young woman invited this handsome man to have dinner with her family. He curiously refused. When questioned, he explained he was born with a dual nature, and with a body that he could change at will, should he choose to reveal the shark-mouth on his back.”

“Linne had not told her family of the kind of being her paramour was, and because she knew her family, and society would not agree on the matter of the shark-mouth on the man’s back, as there was no knowing what fears and jealousies might be excited in the minds of others by such an abnormal being.”

“But still, she insisted, and brought Nanaue to meet her parents, her father of which being a friend of the kahuna, who had informed him of the disappearance of several young women such as his Linne near the tide pools!”

“It turned out that gardenia flowers enabled him to conceal his true nature, as they had a special power.”

“Her father, being a smart man, took those flowers from her hair, and, as the shark-mouth on the man’s back was seen by all the people near, at once the man changed into a monster shark!”

     “He had to escape, for he had eaten several other maidens in the village. The manohae then asked Linne to aid his escape.”

     “Still in love with him, the girl agreed, but midway across the river the man-shark did indeed devour her!”

“ _Why have you hurt me so?_ she asked him, as she sunk to the bottom of the sea. He then said he couldn’t help but devour her, because that was the shark’s nature. What is fundamentally vicious will not change.”

     “But still, young women are told to stay out of these tide pools. And that’s why you mustn’t pick gardenia before they’re fully bloomed, for the seashells are cursed!”

“Because one of the storytellers’s still around. Maybe even.... nearer than you think.”

“Everybody has to eat.”

“But, because of his hunger, the shark man didn’t have anything,” said the woman sadly, “and all was dark.”

 

* * *

 

 _Cursed flowers?!_ Your eyes glance over to Plumeria and the other young women. They had all heard the old woman’s story too.

With a dismissive roll of her eyes, Plumeria snorts, “That’s a dumbass story to get women to stay home.”

“And not do any of that _lolo_ shit like jump from cliffs,” another chimes in. The young women murmur amongst themselves in agreement, and resumethreading together multi-colored leis. But they have stopped threading together the gardenia flowers, instead alternating them with other more comforting, conventional blooms.

The old woman shrugs, she hadn’t expected them to pay too much heed to her story. But gesturing wildly, a Punk Guy then stammers, “So, what, you don’t think that old woman’s story’s real?! I’m telling you _titas_ , the shark-man really DOES exist—“

The pink Guys and Girls then resume their arguing about the validity of the story, but their idle chatter is only good-tempered in nature. The evening is then taken up by a great raucous celebration, full of dancing and laughter and singing and eating and life.

You smile, but are strangely troubled. Whilst you couldn’t picture yourself jumping from a cliff, you could imagine that girl, feeling blissful and exhilarated as she dove for seashells, and thought it was an interesting (albeit very strange) story.

“What do you think?” you say to Nanu, feeling more than a little silly with this lei outstretched in your hands. Was that the reason why he wouldn’t wear the _lei?_ He’s still not taking it...

The kahuna looks at your lei for a long time, his face still and solemn in the firelight.

“About the story? Bunch of nonsense.”

You frown at his willful ignorance. “I was talking about my _lei.”_

Nanu then turns his gaze straight ahead, his eyes caught by the light of the fire. “It's real pretty and it makes my heart feel funny.”

You frown. “Be serious.”

“I’m getting chest pain... Serious.”

 _That’d be too much caffeine for you, Officer Nanu._ “Do you want me to get you a doctor?”

“Sure, I’m weak in the knees...” he snorts. But despite the amount of levity in his voice, Nanu now looked as if some sad song had found its way into his head and he couldn’t lose it for anything or everything.

You fold your hands in your lap, and peer down at the crown of soft flowers, whose white coloration turned gold, and then faded to an ash-black with the dwindling light from the embers of the bonfire.

Maybe then, it was foolish to call whatever feeling in your head love.

‘Love’ could disappear too quickly, after all, the sentiment was quite a heavy thing to hold. When you give a piece of yourself to someone, you’re counting on them to hold it safe, and become vulnerable to the other person as a result. In a way, you become dependent on them— and they may not be the person you expected; the one you were completely sure could carry you.

Then the disappointment when they cannot hold you becomes another burden to bear.

But.

Even if you weren’t sure…

What this feeling in your chest was…

The only thing you wanted to do...

….was set him free from whatever anxiety, whatever trouble he was feeling, right now. For this reason, and many more that you aren’t able to fathom, you can’t stop yourself, and fling your arms around him, hugging as much of the kahuna as he made available.

And you realized you can’t say that this warmth was love. Love disappeared too quickly. The flowers around your neck, in your lap, spread thick on the ground, could grow and wilt in the same season.

But if you cared about someone, well— _that_ sentiment could last forever.

Contemplating this, you remain in place, and the two of you sat that way for a long time in front of the fire, your arms thrown around the older man’s chest, your cheek pressed against the thin fabric of his jacket, his deep, steady heartbeat thrumming against your skin.

Unaccustomed to this sudden show of affection, Nanu’s body shifts in place, then stiffens. “What’s this now, girl?” he asks.

Doubling down on your foolishness, you say, “Some sugar,” then meet his sideways glance with a smile and a clumsy kiss to his temple. “To go with your coffee.”

Nanu blinks, and his left hand reaches up to slowly rub the spot that your lips had touched. He then peers down at his mug, genuinely mystified. “Still tastes the same to me...”

You laugh.

 

* * *

 

 _Braviary fly with Braviary,_ so all the top brass, they would be amongst themselves. This peculiarity of nature was no different at INTERPOL, where the top officials would have the privilege of holding exclusive meetings for those they deemed worthy.

Tonight, the kahuna’s subject to a more unique form of horror—that being the one of the observer in his dreams. In a seedy Kalos bar, from a back table, Nanu watches Agent 000 nurse a cup of coffee. The smell of old cigarettes and liquor permeates the leather upholstery, and he swallows down his disgust.

000 was drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette at the bar table, Nanu could smell it. In those days all coffee sold in those seedy Kalos bars was instant coffee, a bitter, grainy powder that came out of a metal tin. He notices the man’s hands shaking from the cold, even as they curl around his cup. In Kalos, Nanu remembers now he could never get warm, wherever he went. That mug of his had once been warm, but that must have been thirty minutes ago, when the man had first arrived inside.

Crowds of people have packed the bar, and his head swims with all of the activity. Nanu does his best to shake it off. He was a naturally introverted person— but staying in this bar was so immensely exhausting and overstimulating to him, and he knew that the younger man felt the same. There was SO much socializing and SO MUCH noise all of the damn time and never any downtime, never a solitary moment of peace.

Another man comes in from the sleet and snow to sit down at the mahogany wood table, his face barely illuminated by the tungsten bulbs dimly lighting the room from lamps on the bar tables. He sits adjacent to the younger man.

A gruff voice thick with authority then says to 000: “Back from Alola so soon?”

He keeps his gaze on his mug. “Almost didn’t want to leave, ‘least Komala coffee isn’t terrible.”

“Don’t complain about our coffee; some day you may be old and weak yourself, 000.” the man laughs, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He then passes a manila envelope to the younger man.

000 accepts the money, but it meant less than nothing to him. Only a little bit of amusement comes through into his voice. “And what’s that supposed to mean, you son of a bitch...”

“I mean,” his superior explains, “that one can’t help growing older. Relax— have a drink. The organization’s picking up the tab, so don’t worry.”

He remembers that the man hadn’t ordered any liquor to warm his insides. Everything in Kalos was so expensive that if he spent his money too frivolously, he would not be able to use public transit when the weather was bad, which would then really put a damper on his day— because he would then have had to walk miles in the inclement weather.

000 then orders some mixed drink with mint, and his superior orders a cappuccino. He’s suffering from a mild migraine, due to a combination of the bad coffee and the jet-lag (which might have been an oxymoron, but he got both headaches and migraines frequently and knew the damn difference). The liquor was because he just needed a wretched break, so something minty might help him relax, and even soothe his head a bit until the painkillers kicked in.

After their drinks have arrived, he says, “I apologize for the out of the way location, but this must be kept this under the table.” the older man then asks, stirring some kind of frothy saccharinely sweet concoction that only bested the resemblance to a cappuccino in name, “How’re you liking the relocation to Alola, 000?”

“Like the coffee... Too many blasted palm trees.”

“Air must be pretty clean.”

000 takes a long draw from his cigarette, still smoking at the table; "Hmph. Yeah... But I never had a hard time getting a smoke in Kalos. Folks are obsessed over the air quality in those parts...”

“Probably better for your health. Anyways, I must congratulate you. I have no idea why, but that plan of yours is going very well. Using that girl as bait is proving to be quite the effective strategy. It’s proved to be so much so that Lusamine’s approached us with an offer.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Those folks over at the Aether Foundation again?”

“Yes. Her corporation wants to oversee the capture of the UB Guzzlord— the next UB your team will be taking down.”

“They’ve tried to do their own research into bringing the wormholes close to the atmosphere again, but it hasn’t been successful. They’ve even started to create chimera Pokémon in their pursuit of those monsters….”

000 snorts, “Wouldn’t trust them as far as I could throw them.”

“Hmm. From my understanding, despite Lusamine’s manic demeanor, her interest in the UBs doesn’t come from a bad place— the woman just lost her husband to a rogue wormhole.”

“Can’t say I blame her for trying— everyone’s got a reason for doing what they do… But their strategy’s not going to work.”

“And why’s that? I always wondered what drew Pokémon to the Faller. I understand there’s something odd about her.”

As if he were explaining to a child that the sky is blue, 000 then looks him in the eye, and asks:

    _“Do you know anyone else willing to sacrifice themselves for someone they don’t even know?”_

Thoughtfully, his superior brushes some cigarette ash off his chin. “I suppose that’s true, 000. You can’t sympathize?”

“You know _I’m not a good person,”_ 000 says, smiling drily. These words didn’t sting the man. He knew them to be the truth, so he said them plainly.

“At least you’re being honest about it,” his superior says, and 000 shrugs. He understood why he was chosen for this job— his intelligence was of the cruel kind; his real talents lied in taking people apart, then identifying what words would unravel their life.

“I advise you not to get in the way. Our workload has been better ever since we’ve let the officials over at the Aether Foundation take over our handling of the Ultra Beasts.” He then adds, “Hope you’re not getting too attached.”

000 scoffs. “To _what?”_

“You’re right, I should have known better than to suspect.”

And why should he have? Always scared of the truth right in front of his eyes, that man, 000, had always evaluated and then underestimated others’ lives.

Their food arrives. It’s hard to see the prepared dish, which suited him better. Secrets remain better hidden in darkness. Judgments fall to the wayside when there is no light to shine upon them.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. At this stage and in this condition, though, your team will chew up and spit out monsters the ilk of those UBs all day long. UB Guzzlord’s a simple pest, after all.”

000 nods at this assertion, and downs another shot. He continues to pour liquor on his ambitions until they taste like good ideas. Until whether he was eating meat or plastic no longer mattered.

Nanu can’t stand this exchange, and so gets up to leave. Here was the man he so despised, so close he could strangle all the life out of his wretched bones, merely a few meters away from him, and he could not trust himself to not do it.

The legs of his wood chair screech and betray him.

Now aware of Nanu’s presence, 000 turns around and twists his lean, ugly face into a grin of welcome. _Hey there._

Nanu does not dignify the familiar greeting. He does not look 000 in the eyes. He did not want it to exist, this bridge between his dream and the waking world.

In a feigned expression of hurt, his younger self says, _you know, you should be eating with us._

The kahuna’s hands clench into cold hard fists.

_Should be just killing you, you piece of shit._

The younger man raises his eyebrows and chuckles, but says nothing, his satisfaction at being acknowledged fulfilled. A cold bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face as a feeling of utter revulsion churns in his stomach. Nanu watches that man, their eyes trained on each other. Unfazed, 000 continues to lift his fork to his mouth, his dull glass fish eyes on the kahuna all the while while his bloody teeth grind the meat between his molars again and again and again.

The two men then just eat until their jaws tire and wipe their mouths clean when the meal is over.

 

* * *

 

It rains heavily in the morning, leaving Po Town its familiar shade of dull and grey. Before your work started for the day, you had half a mind to make things a little better for Guzma, you put a planter of gardenias on the windowsill of the Pokémon Center. They sat like little patches of moonlight, making that dark wooden kitchen even more cheerful. You make a mental note to place a few vases of flowers in the police station.

Guzma whispers: “Psst!”

You nearly jump in surprise. “Guzma?” Not wanting to get caught up in whatever scheme he had planned, you stall for only a moment in your activity of arranging the flowers in their planters. “What is it?”

The young man’s balancing on makeshift crutches, so he’s not as easily provoked to his usual wild gesturing, but he then asks you, “I haven’t seen ya much ever since you've been workin’ on this place! Don’t you ever take a break?”

You adjust the flowers in their planter, and dust off the counter of the PMC’s café. “Nope,” you respond.

“You don’t ever feel sick?” Guzma asks you now, leaning against the wall for balance. “You were in Ultra Space with us, you know, Lusamine and me. That lady’s in a coma, and I’m, well, you know! You’re not worried something’s gonna _happen?”_

You shake your head, but then feel a little uneasy. You couldn’t afford to get sick, not now when there was still so much work to be done, not in the less than two weeks before the Ocean Arts Festival.

“I’m more worried that I won’t have anyone to dance with,” you laugh, changing the subject.

“Huh!” Guzma remarks. “Hey— dance with the guy you like, kid! Do you really _like_ him?” he asks suddenly, leaning in conspiratorially.

Now you don’t have a _clue_ to what he’s talking about. “Huh?”

“Y’know! That old geezer you gave flowers to, what’s his name, the kahuna.”

Your brow draws together, and your face feels hot. He noticed? “O-Officer Nanu?”

Evidently he did. “Yeah, KID! The one and the freaking only!”

“I think so…?”

Guzma snorts, “I _think_ so? What kinda answer’s that, kid?“

“The best answer I’ve got!”

“Old as he is?” he asks, and can’t help the skeptical tone in his voice. “He’s pretty old, ya know, that uncle! Must be in his forties or fifties.”

“What’s up with _your_ pops?” Guzma asks now, almost if that would have something to do with it.

A distinct pang of hurt nestles itself in your chest. “Gone,” you say.

“Gone how?”

Annoyed with with his incessant badgering, you say, “He’s gone. He died.”

“Shit! Me and my big one.” Guzma yells. Judging from his alarmed expression, you then realize he hasn’t meant anything by it and accept his apology with a nod of your head.

“Y’know, I thought Plum had a soft spot for the old guy and that’s why she came here in the first place,” the young man continues. “Wouldn’tve imagined some young kid like you’d like an old geezer like _that!_ You feel sorry for him? You go around giving flowers to every Uncle?”

“I don’t feel sorry for him,” you say defensively. “Not at all.”

“Isn’t he, y’know, a little old for you? Must be 40 or 50 sumwhat, KID! What I’m sayin’ is he could be your pops, smell me!?”

“Okay,” you say, thinking the kahuna couldn’t parent a houseplant, much less someone your age.

“You’re crazy,” he laughs. “Real _lolo.”_

As you‘re about to make a smart retort to his off-hand remark, you notice a young man, his glasses askew, waiting at the entrance of the Pokémon Center. You then greet Molayne with a smile, and he hurries in, Guzma watching him.

“Hey, Champ!” Molayne says, his face smeared with grease and sweat. He had been working hard, communicating with his cousin on possible solutions for the lack of electricity to power Po Town, and you hope he had good news to tell you.

You’re about to ask him about his progress on any such solutions on the matter, but you notice there’s a strange uneasy tension between the two young men. For a moment, you’re not able to place the reason why, but then you remember that both of them must have been Professor Kukui’s good friends at one point, and are quiet.

Guzma then folds his arms across his chest. “Yo.” he greets Molayne begrudgingly.

Soft-spoken and good natured as always, the young man greets the two of you, then asks, “I’m sorry— did I interrupt you two?”

“Nah! I was asking this chick if she had someone to take to the festival yet. Do you?”

“Actually, I was thinking about asking someone, but nothing’s come of it yet,” Molayne laughs sheepishly; his face is red. “Have a minute to spare, Champ?” he asks you. You nod.

“So, you know that the electricity in the town still isn’t working.” Molayne says with a sigh. “In the meanwhile, I’ve been setting up short-term solutions, but here’s the bad news—they all require a lot of money and Pokémon to sustain.”

“Me and Soffy discovered that a large amount of electric type Pokémon could absorb the ground current, but due to the town’s limited space, it’d only function as a stop-gap measure at best...”

“And why’s that?” Guzma asks, gesturing to the working lights in the PMC. “The power’s working fine here! Lights are on. The healing machine works!”

“Well, it has something to do with the excess amount of current generated by the ground lightning due to the excessive amount of thunderstorms in the area.” Molayne says, his voice taking on an oddly defensive tone. Fans of each other these two were certainly not. “The Pokemon Center’s running on its own internal generator. It exists separately from the town’s power lines.”

Attempting to defuse the situation, you ask him now, “Could we get power from Malie City?” That seemed like a feasible solution— despite its out of the way location, Po Town must have had some connection to Ula’ula island’s capital city, due to the infrastructure already in place.

The young man heaves a heavier sigh, and wipes the sweat from his sandy brows. “That’s a good idea, but… Because of said excess electrical charge in the area, it’s difficult to put down the circuits or do any work on a generator, much less connect it to Malie City’s generator.”

Argh. This was turning out to be a headache. A real headache. “How were they getting power before? Team Skull?” you ask.

You and Molayne then look at Guzma. The young man glances away now, and mutters, “We STOLE it, kid…”

A familiarly gruff voice says, “That’s right.” The figures of Plumeria and Nanu enter into the building. With a shake of his head, Nanu then points out, “To the tune of several million Pokédollars... Hate to say it, kid, but it’s not a viable strategy long term.”

The kahuna looks troubled, and you notice there’s a white envelope in his left hand. “Something wrong?” you ask.

Answering in Nanu’s stead, Plumeria snorts, “Tch! They’ve increased the costs of utilities and rent again, _wahine.”_

“And that was my second point.” Molayne says. The young man then points out that even if Po Town _were_ to buy electricity from the city, the island nation's costliest power bills were in Malie City, where one would need to be able to earn several times the minimum wage to be able to afford to pay for the cost of electricity.

“The cost of the rent and utilities here’s usually the least dreadful out of the cities on the island,” Nanu then sighs, “but being the best of a dreadful bunch ain’t saying much, kid.”

That was no good. You needed to be able to have working light in Po Town. What city in Alola didn’t have working power or _electricity?_

Molayne muses, “If there’s a way to have a shock absorber, no, something that could absorb the excess electricity, it would be easy work to lay down work for a generator.”

“Please keep trying,” you say to Molayne now, and he nods.

“I can feel that I’m on the edge of a breakthrough, but I just need more time…”

Time you may not have.

Resolving to not let this get to you, you conclude your talk with the group with a resolve to search for alternative options. But before you leave, Guzma says with a yelp:

“That’s what they call outsiders, _wahine! Manohae._ Flesh-eating sharks.”

You then understood his fear. Everything needed to go smoothly on the day of Po Town’s grand opening. Many people would be rooting for it to go badly. Because then it would be just as well— this town and everyone in it were all regarded as outsiders, so of course their efforts would come to no consequence.

As you leave, you notice that same uncertain fear in his eyes still lurked in Guzma’s eyes— but you’re quickly pulled away to continue your preparations for the festival, and have no time to dwell on it further.

 

* * *

 

_It was, then, the music that drew him._

…that’s what he would say if pressed on it. Right now it’s hard to think on anything else besides his body pressed against you.

For the past few days, the majority of the time had been spent with more work on the community garden, and it had nearly been completed. All the while, they had passed the time working by singing old Alolan folk-songs, such as ‘Alola Means I Love You’, and ‘Over the Rainbow’, and several varieties of chanting and hula music.

Originally, the kahuna had no idea where he was going, just that he had a sense he would find what he needed before he was finished. On the path to the garden, he saw only a few of the lamps were burning.

Across the way, amidst the weeds, and dirt and flowers and overripe fruit and insects— he spied your figure, digging away at some weeds. He watched you for a while as you pace through the garden.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, you would talk to these flowers. Well, more like hum to them. The soft sound is light but ridiculously persistent. The air shimmered with your happy humming.

The melody you were humming had a logic all its own, and it brought something out in him.

He watched you battle with a gardenia vine, pulling out several tools from the old red toolbox in your attempt to best the vine.

You then heaved a sigh. “Why is the plant wilting?” In spite of the plant’s best efforts, its stem heavy with blooms, the flower stalk drooped. The vine was dying.

Unable to tolerate that miserable look cast on your face, Nanu then took a pair of blackened kitchen shears from the old toolbox, and began to _snip-snip-snip_ off the bottom half of the blooms from each of the gardenia vines. This was evidently the wrong thing to do, because you then cried out in a panic, “What are you doing?” as you watched him cut off each snowy-white blossom. You then immediately thrust your hands in front of the shears’ blades.“STOP!”

Nanu stopped just short of your chest, his shears in one hand. Your hands have clasped around their blades, drawing fresh blood from the flesh of your palms. The liquid was fresh and warm, and ran along the cold metal of the blades, dripping slowly onto the ground. You winced from the pain.

“Look… It’s dying, girl. If you don’t remove the flowers, it won’t grow properly.”

You weren’t listening. Tears were now running from your face, and mingling with the fresh blood as they dripped onto the ground.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it was trying its best. I’m... I’m just trying my best.”

He lowered his weapon. “Girl. What’s this really about?”

You glanced at the laughing people. “Everyone here’s become a family. I was just thinking... What if it doesn’t work out? And I get everyone’s hopes up for nothing...”

The kahuna peered around at the garden, his ears had picked up the clamor of the singing people. Off in the distance, those kids Plumeria and Guzma were arguing about _something—_ probably having to do with the correct way to sing a particular line, and that boy Molayne was laughing there all the while, whilst attempting to get in between them. “You’re right— it’s real nice... From what I hear from the folks growing up around here, the place was a good town for working folks.”

You smiled wistfully. “That’s why it has to be a success.” you said, attempting to shake off your thoughts, pacing now. But your eyes were bright and swimming with all the demands brought on you. Inside those irises was a light that was shining further than any eyes could reach it.

The day was still cast in gray, but knowing how quickly it would darken, he leads you around the garden. You walked so fast, and thought so hard, he thought you would fall right to pieces. At this time, the dusks were long and peaceful. Oftentimes he would sit silently on the porch, watching the sky go from pastel yellow to pink as the sun went down, and it would calm him.

“I’m sorry, girl,” the older man said. You and him are walking beneath a canopy of fruit-blossom now, and the world smells like warm sweetness. “About your flowers... That’s the trouble with living things. Don’t last very long.”

“But...”

“Don’t get caught up in what folks think things should be, and not what they really are.”

“You knew people like that?”

Nanu then shrugged. “Sure... There‘re just some kind of folks who — who’re so busy worrying about the next world they’ve never really learned to live in this one.”

“I’m trying to live in the present. But... What if everything turns out terribly?” you then asked him, and Nanu took in the sight of you the best he could in the dim light.

“That’s just it, girl... Everything could turn out terribly— worse than we imagined, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. But whatever happens, you can’t give into despair.”

“Whatever nonsense’s happening,” the older man then says, seeing the anxious expression on your face, “it can all be sorted out.”

Going up, he can’t resist the temptation to slide his arms around the small of your back and around your waist. Your heartbeat is thready and quick, the beating of a bird’s heart. He would let you stand here in the blackness and see if you would open up a little.

There is sweetness in his mouth, with you fluttering against his chest. The earth’s own wind will make the leaves of these trees rustle, but nothing in the world could make him move from this spot.

He wraps his arms around you, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet to the soles of his shoes, until the beat of your heart decelerates, until your innervated pulse is brought to a peaceful lull.

Until it is quiet and stilled.

     The gardenia are draped over the bench like someone cradling their loved one, and mirroring that same motion, he interlocks his fingers in between yours. He then rubs the soft skin of your palm with the pad of his thumb, and handles you like a shard of glass— he’s scared of what might happen if he didn’t hold you carefully. But he needed to be brought back to this moment— you smelled very real, and that realness was what he needed at that moment.

He was surprised that he has not yet lost it, for he loses everything.

Despite the thought of that man, blind to everything but his own hunger, he still has to indulge this selfish thought:

      _If your world, for only a few moments, would be filled with only me…_

_How happy I‘d be._

 

* * *

 

     Deciding to focus on things you could in fact change, your preparations for the festival rolled along this way peacefully for about a few days. Fortunately, the berry crop growing in the garden had bloomed quickly, and then fruited heavily. 

     In the humid island heat, especially in this garden, there are lots of shrubs and bushes with small white flowers, and in the middle of the day when it’s the hottest the smell of them just permeates everything – this super heady, uniquely green and floral scent with a deep nectar sweetness.

     To stave off the heat and humidity brought on by the inclement weather, you and your work crew would start to sing and chant Alolan folk-songs while working in the community garden. It was traditional to sing and dance at great celebrations, some women would later inform you. But you needed little reason to sing, and joined in with great relish, needing something to distract you from your multitude of worries.

     Needing more tools to harvest the fruit, you dug into the old closet of the police station. The kahuna had never been far away from the music, for he had laughed as he had pointed out the old toolbox in the police station, “Shoot, there‘re still songs out there that can make you want to love something?” 

     Coming up with wares to sell during the festival had been no trouble at all— for after having a taste of this fruit, you become certain that the person who had come up with the term ‘comfort food’ had certainly invented it there on the spot. Thick slices of the freshly cut local fruit dusted with chili pepper and spices, would be sold at various stalls, as well as other wares like pressed seed oil and woven grass skirts from the other plants.

Undoing her pigtails, Plumeria then illustrated this by raking a pump (or two) of the pressed coconut oil through her long-suffering waist length bleached blonde, pastel-tinted hair. “Coconut oil! It works.”

     On one occasion when you were picking the fruit from the overhanging branches of the trees, you listened in on the young women’s conversation as they worked. They spoke cheerfully about some folk tales, but then spoke more wistfully of the girl’s story, sounding very much the same way people sound when they see a rock pool, those shallow pools of seawater too quickly swallowed by the rocky shore— _how pretty, how easily destroyed._

You were confused at their sudden melancholy. _Weren’t they just saying the story was ridiculous?_

     One of the women shook her head, and explains that the story had not always not been remembered that way. But foul rumors had turned the shark-king horrid and forbidden, the girl’s songs misheard and misinterpreted; whispers warped his features until he was monstrous in nature. Island people would then fear the waves, and fear the beasts beneath them, thinking it wise to shun all he had touched and cast all who loved him into the churning deep.

      _Poor Linne and Nanaue,_ you had thought, but shake your head. Not willing to dwell on fairytales or otherwise, you continue working on the garden, and do your best to learn the ceremonial songs the other women sang. You would focus on things you could change. 

     Thinking Plumeria a kindred spirit, you had asked the young woman if she was interested in working with you on the garden, just for fun. But Plumeria was truly a city girl, and all the open space and humidity around the garden made her nervous, so she soon returned to her little room that she had made in one of the abandoned houses. The young woman would then snort, _You won’t get me near the garden at night, wahine! It’s full of snakes and bugs._

     You work late into most evenings, the Volbeat and Illumise dancing all around you, your bare feet heated in the warmth of the dusky grass.

     Tonight, it’s still really hot and muggy, but you can tell the night is coming because the sunlight is hitting everything more softly. The sky had promised a heavy, hot day; the huge gray clouds seem to be pregnant with rain. Humidity made your hair unruly and disheveled. In fact, the air swelled with moisture, a swell of humidity that signified the time before a huge electricity storm, and the first rush of rain— when it's still sunny and hot and you can feel the ozone rising.

     In spite of this humidity, you have a fistful of afternoon in the sun-baked earth you now grasp in your palm, and you wonder if the weather will always be this gloriously warm. And you loved the garden. Sometimes.

     If it weren’t for this stupid plant.

After applying mulch and other such things to the soil, you look out fondly at the garden where you brought water to the neat rows of berries whilst leaning on a shovel. The little vines and shoots had blossomed into beautiful, vibrant blooms, some even heavy with fruit on their delicate protrusions. But a gardenia vine snakes around the other plants, choking the life out of them.

     As you wrestle with this persnickety gardenia vine, you knew why Plumeria had tried to shanghai the older man into helping with the garden’s work now— despite Nanu’s seemingly rangy and lean figure, in his leanness there was strength.

     You could barely see your hand before your face—but that didn’t seem to matter to you. Even though the garden’s afternoon shadows pointed like fingers back the way you had come, even as the long crooked arms of the trees surrounded you; the rustling leaves whispering behind your back, these things didn’t scare you. Preoccupy yourself with humming all the while, you thresh fast and sure though the garden was beginning to darken; the bushes of berries are covered with these vines so much so that it seemed like a pile of brush.

     When you noticed the kahuna standing there staring at you, you suddenly realized you were humming too much, and you closed your mouth.

You could cry out in frustration. In addition to the rain, which had become a drizzle once again, this vine, was dying, due to the copious amount of flowers that bloomed from the plant.

How could you kill something so beautiful?

     As you think you’re just about driven to insanity due to this gardenia plant, you then suddenly become aware of the grating sound of metal shears.

     And you turn back to see the kahuna,whistling softly as he snips away he flowers. Your precious flowers. You HAD to stop him. Here were these flowers that were trying their hardest to succeed, despite their frustratingly obstinate nature.

     You remember that girl with her eyes closed, her feet dangling in the cool water of the sea. Had she known what fate would befall her?

     Yelling out a sharp protest, you move to stop him. His eyes widen as the meat of your palms envelop the shears, and you cry out in pain.

If she had, then…

_...does fear, then, make you fearless?_

     He furiously pulls your hands away from its blades, and you then burst into tears.

     In an rather undignified way, you then vomit out your worries, probably spurred on by the sudden pain of being wounded. The kahuna nods at first, but as your speech becomes more rapid and unintelligible, Nanu blinks, then laughs while shaking his head. “I had you there at the beginning, girl, but you lost me at the end...”

     Walking with you throughout the downpour, he explains to you about the people who had their eyes only on their futures, and never the present. Despite your resolve to keep your vision on the present, you can’t help but ask, “What if everything turns out terribly?”

     Nanu then says, “Everything _could_ turn out terribly— worse than we imagined, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. But whatever happens, you can’t give into despair.”

     “Whatever nonsense’s happening,” the older man then says, seeing the anxious expression on your face, “it can all be sorted out.”

He then puts his lean arms around you and rocks you gently, and you’re suddenly awash with a comforting sensation of settling slowly to the depths of the sea floor.

     You’re brought to a place where the town’s noise fades away as if there is no town at all; where the palm trees and the flowers and the plants all around stand like an army. And you’re left alone with the slanting light and him.

     Then it was as if the noise of the rain faded away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes and Comments
> 
> **Special thanks to the Gutenberg Project for having such a wide collection of Hawaiian folk-tales available in the public domain! The story is very, very, very, VERY loosely based on the folk-tale of the same name, so check it out if you guys get a chance. It’s good reading.
> 
> The artists for ‘Over the Rainbow’ and ‘Aloha Means I Love You’ are Israel Kamakawiwoʻole and King Nawahi's Hawaiians, respectively. I do not own either. 
> 
> Glossary of Alolan Terms and Phrases
> 
> lolo: crazy, insane
> 
> lelekawa: to jump from a great height
> 
> manohae: man-shark
> 
> talk story: to gossip, to idly chatter
> 
> tita: a local, masculine woman who talks typically in Hawaiian (or Alolan) pidgin.
> 
> wahine: woman
> 
> (Also, since this week’s the same as my cake-day, I may have a surprise in store for you all coming soon. Stay tuned!)


	19. Love is an Island, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some say it looks beautiful at a distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...here we go.
> 
> (When you get a chance, check out this cool gift art my friend of The Abyss Where You Live!
> 
> Link’s: 
> 
> https://igitursum.tumblr.com/post/176968315670/the-abyss-where-you-live)

 

     Bewildered at what had come over the two of you, the two of you retreat to your separate domains, and the rest of that evening passes without consequence. In fact, the next day, Officer Nanu had returned to his blasé, hands-off self, so you did not talk to him regarding the events of the day before. You decided that that your stress from overwork and the upcoming festival had made the both of you more than a _little_ crazy, and you tried only to think on ways to make the grand opening of Po Town a success.

_The following evening,_ however _,_ as you wait inside the Po Town PMC after finishing the day’s chores, Nanu throws you a shiny chrome helmet.

    “What’s this?” you look up from the helmet and at him.

    “A surprise,” is the only thing he offers you.

    With a wave of his head, he motions in the direction of the police station. Somewhat nervous, while the two of you walk there, you ply him with multiple questions: _what did you say?, what kind of surprise?_ , so on and so forth. 

    After being continually plagued by all of your questions, he finally exclaims, “What’s all these questions, girl?” Nanu then anxiously puts a hand on his grey hair, ruffling what was already ruffled. “Maybe you don’t care for me…”

    “I do,” you begin to protest, but then are cut short by:

   “What’s _that?”_

   “Your surprise, kid,” Nanu says, the droll look on his face illustrating this _should_ have been obvious to you. “Go on…” 

   Urged onwards by him, you then look into the darkness of the garage at the back of the police station, and are astonished.

    The old police mobile unit is not a shiny, glistening thing, but as the low grumble of the vehicle’s engine continues on, you could have sworn it almost looked alive. In juxtaposition to any sort of bicycle you had ever seen, this motorcycle was equipped with a windshield, saddle boxes, pursuit lights, and folding floorboards for pedals, rather than foot-pegs to accelerate and brake.

  “Old motor unit,” Nanu says. “from when the folks over at the Alolan police department could still afford to have smaller, non-Pokémon units patrolling cities.”  He then explains that this series of motor units were also equipped with radio communications equipment and electronic sirens. 

   Astonished at the sight of this vehicle, the only thing you exclaim while walking around its length is: “Like a _motorcycle?!”_

   Nanu grins, clearly more than a little charmed from your giddiness. Something like that,” he says. “Relic of its time... Technically speaking, this model’s only a single-rider motor unit, so it was built to carry one person— but this old bike’s sturdy enough for the extra weight.”

    After he climbs onto the driver seat and puts on his helmet, the older man then taps the padded rear rack behind him. “Gun shy...?”

   Is he asking you to go _with_ him?

   Your shoulders stiffen. “N-No!” _Yes._

    _Well, come on then,_ his expression seems to say.

   After what seems to be a long time (but in actuality only was a few moments), you put on the helmet he had handed you, and climb on the back of the vehicle.

   "Hold on tight," Nanu then says after he puts on a pair of tinted Blackglasses to shield his eyes from the sun, and slams on the gas.

   The two of you ride _sans_ siren, but it is quite something to watch the road unroll before you as he made the sharp turn onto the the freeway.

   "Aah!" you yell, a smile rapidly forming on your face. You have to lean in, the speed was almost too much to handle. "It's _so_ fast!” 

    It really was. And in addition to being fast, there was an undercurrent of danger. As the second rider, you had to ensure you didn’t interfere with the kahuna’s feet as he braked and accelerated.

    In fact, being a passenger on a motorbike, in contrast to riding on a ten-speed, were so distantly related that, like Wailords and Skitties, only phylogenetics would put them on the same tree.

    But different didn’t mean bad. Oh, no.

    Different just meant different.

    As the two of you pass several motorists on the police bike, the scenery rapidly changes, the broad-edged palm swaying in the breeze almost waving goodbye to the two of you. The water glitters and shines on the horizon, the lights dance on the water’s surface reflected by the city street lights, the wind makes your hair toss in the current.

   "How're you feeling back there?" he shouts above the drone of the motorcycle' engine.

   "Really great!" you yell in an attempt to indicate your enthusiasm, but the roar of the motorbike’s worn-out engine drowns out your voice. "Really, really great!"

   From the out of the edges of the sunglasses’ frames, the corners of his eyes crinkle up, and he shows you a rare, genuine smile. And it occurs to you, with the wind beating against your back, the moonlight glinting in your eyes, and the warmth of your two bodies pressed together, that...

   ...you're happy. Really and truly happy. 

   Before you have too much time to dwell on this thought, the two of you come to a stop at a traffic signal, and you notice that the two of you are beside Kahuna Hala atop his Tauros. This sight apparently did not escape the kahuna of Melemele Island’s notice, for Hala's eyes widen, and the older man shouts, "Officer Nanu! You should NOT be riding that out of date vehicle without a permit!”

   Nanu shoots you a disbelieving glance, _you believe this?_ and you laugh. He tries to then give Hala his best ‘ _I’ve got it covered’_ look, but Kahuna Hala isn’t convinced by the man’s put-upon sangfroid. You can’t really blame him.

   Over the _thump-thump-thump_ of the motorcycle’s engine, Hala continues, “Don’t forget, next week’s kahuna meeting is of the utmost importance! It’s mandatory that you come—“

   Nanu nods, but his eyes were watching the traffic light the entire time. “Gotcha," he says, and slams on the gas amidst Hala's protests. You can’t help but shout.

   Your hands clinging onto his back, you hold on tightly onto his thin body. There's something reassuring and steady about his firm grasp on the handlebars. There were a few houses down the street, here and there, and he pointed to them as you went past. The grass sways, and the current makes your hair toss and whip around your face.

    In no time at all, the two of you stop in front of a familiar pagoda-shaped building, and he turns the key from its ignition, parking it just on the side of the cobblestoned curb. After you dismount the police cruiser, you take a hungry gulp of fresh city air. Warmth radiates from the center of your chest to your fingertips as your heart rapidly beats in your chest. 

    "That was,” you turn to face him and brush loose strands of hair out of your face, and shout, _“—amazing!"_

   The kahuna, however, doesn’t look so happy.

   "Damn it, I'm gonna hear an earful from Hala later..." Nanu sighs as he dismounts the motorcycle. He rubs the back of his head; his helmet has flattened his scruffy hair. “Look here, don’t you go saying anything about this to Hala or the other kahunas. Already skating on thin ice with them with missing the kahuna meetings to begin with...”

    The responsible thing to do would be to tell him to ‘ _go to more kahuna meetings then,’_ but you don't want to jeopardize your chances of this ever happening again. “I won’t say anything,” you then say, miming the motion of zipping up your mouth and throwing away the key. “But only if...”

   You pause for effect.

   “A catch, huh...” Nanu sighs.

    You lean forward on your toes and grin. “If you’ll take me again.”

    He lifts up his glossy sunglasses, then laughs, besides himself.

    “All right, girl... All right.”

 

* * *

 

    ...if you’re a member of the general public, chances are you’d only end up at Sushi High Roller only if you really like sushi, because, let’s face it, there’s only one other reason to be in this part of Malie City, and that’s if you like really, really, REALLY expensive restaurants.

    Apparently the rest of the Alolan sushi loving public had gotten the same memo, for the two of you are greeted at the building’s entrance with:

    “What?!" a man yells in indignation.

    A woman cries, "Closed again for the _entire year?!"_

    Curiosity piqued, you now peer more closely at the offwhite card-stock notice posted on the front door of Sushi High Roller.

     _Attention, valued patrons: Sushi High Roller is fully booked (lunch and dinner included) for the remainder of the year._  

_Thank you for your understanding, and we apologize for the inconvenience. Please see our website for any future reservations._

     _— Management._

      Your shoulders slump in disappointment. _Again?_ At this rate, the only way you’d eat at this place was in your dreams.

    You then breathe sadly, "The restaurant's booked for the whole year..."

    Nanu, however, spares nary a glance at the posted sign as he pushes the door open carelessly. You waste no time in following him inside, despite some of your misgivings and second thoughts.

    It’s hard _not_ to be star-struck when you enter the glossy, well-manicured building that is Sushi High Roller. For one, it’s _very_ quiet. The diners eat with such restraint that their chopsticks make only tiny clicking noises as they just strike the lacquered dishes.

    Furthermore, the restaurant is stunning, its space decorated in muted, natural colors that emphasized its traditional roots. The restaurant had been designed after a Johtoan temple, but yet boasted classy, modern elements that suited its minimalist aesthetic, such as high, airy ceilings, Cheri-hardwood floors polished so clean you could see your face in them, and intricate _tatami_ mats with legendary Pokémon hand painted onto the mat’s fragrant rice straw.

    It almost demands a reverence from you as soon as you enter the door. But the man in front of you however, quickly dispels any notion of that with:

    "You open?" As he addresses the two hosts at the front of the restaurant, Nanu’s dressed with that same look of blasé indifference on his face. He’s definitely a regular.

    The younger of the two men nervously bows. The _obi_ of his _yukata_ crumples in a similar fashion to his face. "O-of course for you, kahuna!"

    The other graciously smiles, not at all fazed by the man’s gruff demeanor. "Kahuna Nanu...! What a pleasure to have you dine with us again. Of course, your table’s always available.”

    "Right this way." they say in unison.  You’re astounded at the immediate turnabout in their demeanor.

_I guess being Kahuna can get you places..._

However, now that the possibility of dining with Officer Nanu was quickly becoming a solid reality, you're (ever so) slightly terrified.

    What if you didn't have anything to talk about? What if the bill was humongous and he expected you to pay for half? You'd go into massive debt- no, your descendants would be _born_ into bankruptcy!  What if he turned out to be a gigantic sea monster?

    ...Okay, you admit the last one's a _little_ far-fetched. Why would sea monsters even _like_ sushi? Judging from that old woman’s story, it seemed like they would rather something much more human be on the menu…

    Nanu turns around. "What're you doing waiting there, girl? Let's go in."

    Your feet remain firmly planted to the spot. "I don't know if the table's just for one," you insist, unwilling to mention the multitude of reasons your legs had suddenly become rooted to this very spot on the hardwood floor.

    "Huh, that's what you think?" The older man lets out a deep and hoarse laugh while carelessly running a hand through his shark-grey hair. "Don't worry about those folks—table'll sit two fine."

    You still hesitate, and he laughs even harder. "Kid. _I'm_ buying, so come join me and eat."

    "Hey, _Sensei_. Bring me my usual."

    After the two of you are ushered to your table, your head swivels at the marvelous interior of Sushi High Roller. The lights on the ceiling are rectangular in shape and scored so that the light comes out in a diffused halo. Freshly cut branches of pastel-colored _sakura_ and orchid-pink _ume_ blossoms are placed in a vase on each table. The two of you take a seat at the largest table, this one outfitted with a sleek lacquered wood finish.

You hear a man, dressed conspicuously for the occasion, whisper, "The _kaiseki-ryori_ here's the best in Alola!"

    "Wow, the furnishings in here are gorgeous- I heard they imported _real_ Cheri-wood from Johto,” another voice whispers.

    "I feel so underdressed...!" another woman murmurs, clutching at the jewelry on her chest. The diamonds and pearls in her necklace shine in the diffused light.

    Forget about her—if she was underdressed in glittering jewels, your attire was downright pauperlike in comparison. Your hair, thanks to being plunked under a motorcycle helmet for the better part of an hour, stuck out in very unattractive wayward and wild directions, your face was marked with helmet-lines, and you were wearing your 'I'm doing gardening and construction work on a old worn-down town clothes’, not ‘I’m dining at a luxury restaurant whose meals cost more than the entire cost of my living in one year' clothes.

    Honestly, from your wayward helmet hair to your less than incredibly formal clothes, you probably looked like a lunatic to the waiting staff.

    From the aside glances one of the guests gives you, you sigh softly and hang your head. Make that _definitely_ looked like a lunatic.

    In no time at all,  a waiter dressed in a ceremonial yukata greets the two of you and tells you of the custom _Z-kaiseki_ meal for the day. A true _kaiseki-ryori,_ you soon learned, was a journey of a few hours. The portion size of the courses had seemed small at the beginning, but there were more than ten courses to be had.

    And each one was a dream. From the rice porridge, which tasted like a blanket wrapped around you on a snowy day, to the buttery yet thin slices of sashimi freshly caught that day, to the freshly cooked jasmine rice, brought out on its own for tasting.

     Interrupting the great relish you were taking in  your meal with him, however, were the soft murmurings of the clientele. You notice that their eyes had been following the two of you, and the scandalized looks of the nearby patrons left a foul taste in your mouth.

   “Is that Officer Nanu?”

   “That’s the kahuna, isn’t it?” 

   “He’s on a date?! At his age?”

   “But he’s so much _older_ than her…”

   “Don’t they have any shame?”

    You look down unhappily at your plate. The fluffy grains of rice had become bitter. 

   “You okay, girl?”

   Your eyes dart up to gaze at his face, and you see that the older man is swirling a shot glass a third of the way full with milky _sake_ in one hand. If Nanu was bothered by any of their remarks, he didn’t show it. But you knew that’s if there was one thing he never wanted, it was pity.

     “I’m fine…” you say softly. He snorts, unconvinced. You pull his hand across the table and squeeze it.

    “Why do you ask?” you then ask.

    The older man then gestures to your plate. The sushi rice had been so well-cooked, it sent intoxicating dizzying spirals of aromatic steam into the air. You could taste the sweetness of each individual kernel of rice, and you don't think you've had rice this good, well, _ever._

    You pause.

    Uh-oh.

    You then realize you’ve just been eating the rice, so your portion of the sashimi and nigiri has gone uneaten.

   Nanu blinks, then peers down at your plate.  "Do you _eat_ raw fish, girl?"

    You nod.

   "You _like_ it?"

    You nod again.

    The older man motions to your portion of the sashimi. "Plenty of it's still on your plate."

    Whoops.

    Deciding to put their cruel words out of your mind, you wolf down the pieces of fish, marveling at how precisely cut the _sashimi_ is, so paper-thin that the fish's flesh is translucent, glossy and briny-smelling.

   “Hey, _kid,_ don’t just hork it down—“ Nanu begins to protest, but you won’t be stopped.

    “It’s good, I really like it,” you say in between big mouthfuls of fish and rice, your cheeks stuffed like a Patrat squirreling food away for the winter. You didn’t want him to see that you were troubled.

    “Honestly…” Nanu mutters with a shake of his head, his shoulders trembling all the while— he’s trying to conceal his urge to laugh. “But it’s good, right…?”

   Even though you had a fantastic meal, after you had finished the main course of sashimi, then oshizushi, you can’t help but feel that something’s missing.

    Evidently, the kahuna felt the same way, for after waving a waiter over, he says something to the waiter in _Japanese._  You feel a little put out because you can't understand what the two men are conversing about.  
  
    "It's a surprise," the older man offers you an enigmatic smirk.

     You weren’t surprised at his response— you figured that if the kahuna wasn’t going to speak in English, he’d want to conceal whatever he had planned from you.

    You only ask, “You can speak Japanese?”

    "Hmph. Picked up bits and pieces here and there on assignment," Nanu explains, in his same sky-is-blue tone. "I'm no scholar though, so don't go asking me for tips on how to write Johtoan poetry..."

A few minutes after you had assured him you would do no such thing, the same waiter emerges from the back of the restaurant, carrying a silver dish covered with a bowl made of the same material. He then places it on your table, and after apologizing for the delay, promptly uncovers it, revealing a golden-brown _taiyaki_ in the shape of a Magikarp, the pastry’s cut open, revealing its _anko_ innards. 

    “For the kahuna and the lady,” he says, and above the billowing steam of the taiyaki, you could swear for one moment, you could see the pinkness of a flush spreading across his face.

     “Told you to say it was just for the girl,” Nanu grumbles, but then thanks the waiter with the slightest bow of his head, and sends him off. 

    “Sorry for the wait,” he says, then scratching his head. “Place hasn’t seen anything like a deep fryer or waffle iron in its long stay here… and you can’t eat the thing straight from the freezer, unless you’re a real fan of the dentist and have a real fulfilled bank account.”

   He turns to you. “So? Dig in.”

   You were more than happy to, so you did: alternating bites of the crispy pastry, the sweet red bean paste, and the matcha ice cream. It tasted as good as anything you had ever eaten in your whole life.

At the conclusion of your meal, the same waiter places the check down on the table, in a black leather slip. You instinctively reach for it, but like a Golduck snapping up a hapless fish Pokémon from the water, the kahuna’s taken the check away from the table and into his wiry hands.

    "Can I see?" you ask with a frown. He should have at _least_ gave you the option of paying for it.

    "Wanna pay?" Nanu raises an eyebrow, and shakes his head. "Told you I’m buying... Don't worry about it."

After paying for dinner, Nanu then turns to you, and you see that he’s waiting for you to offer some commentary on your meal. The plain look on his face expected you to say that you didn’t like it.

    Busybody patrons aside, you had to admit that you had enjoyed the food. Sure—this wouldn’t be a place you would take your mom, for one. She’d probably proclaim that she made better desserts in her sleep. But the food’s so intricate, and the dishes almost _taste_ beautiful, as if you’re ingesting a piece of art.

    And you can see a lot of people not really “getting” Sushi High Roller. A lot of the people dining here are stuck-up, snobby jerks who had more money than even _they_ knew what to do with. But the restaurant is charming, clean, and quiet, and the food tastes weird but delicious. It’s not “for everyone” but that’s okay.

    “I liked it. Very much.” you admit.

     Actually, you had more than half a mind to repay him, so after gathering your things, you abruptly get up from your seat.

“Where’re you headed off to now?” the kahuna asks from behind you. 

    “To get some sugar,” you say, which earns you an fleeting smile from his elusive gaze.

 

* * *

 

   With a sigh, Nanu turns around another tin of coffee. Also expired.

    _Dunno what I expected, heading to this old place..._

    Before, when he had mentioned the Thrifty Megamart off hand, it was meant to placate you from asking exactly WHEN you’d head to Sushi High Roller. However, he had been surprised when you had still insisted on going to the supermarket after your meal. After a quick reassurance from you, the two of you separated, with a promise to meet in thirty minutes.

    He turns back to the row of cans in the beverage aisle. A carefree, mundane jingle plays throughout the supermarket, as if to punctuate this experience with the silliness it deserved. How could there be so many expired coffee tins in one place? He reasoned they must have converged on this location.

    That made sense. Nanu could tell that the supermarket had been around for a time well past its prime judging by the copious use of duct tape on the promotional displays, and the old plastic chairs and tables held together only by sheer force of will (or the excessive amount of glue holding the furniture together, but honestly, given their age it may as well have been the same thing).

     _But hey, it’s part of the charm._ The kahuna would never complain about the Thrifty Megamart. He believed in truth in advertising, and the name of the supermarket had described it perfectly. If he wanted something cheap, this would be the store he would go to. And after so many years in the crowded metropolises of Kalos, Unova, and other such regions, Nanu thought that just about any well-lit convenience store with enough room for him not to bang his groceries on each side of the aisle practically qualified as a five-star shopping experience.

   (Grocery stores in those cities were small and desolate experiences.)

   After the kahuna finishes with his own shopping, and finds a good can of coffee (read: not expired), he waits for you while enjoying his beverage. The cold, metallic aftertaste is a welcome respite from the heat. He didn't realize how high quality the thing was until he held it in his hands, he thought it would be in some cheap little plastic canister, but it’s in a sturdy metal can.

    A period of fifteen minutes passes, but there’s no sign of you anywhere. Nanu gulps down another swig of his tinned iced coffee, then with a sigh, he scratches the back of his head.

_It’s fine. That girl probably wandered off to change her clothes or some nonsense like that..._

     But even as the kahuna thinks this, his heartbeat accelerates more still, as his eyes dart from display to display, to the frozen food aisle, to the fresh grocery in the front of the store, but there is no sound of shoes on the Megamart’s floor.

    You’re nowhere to be found.

    And nobody’s here. At all.

    Something terrible wrenches in his stomach then, and a horrid stench like a cloth bandaging that's gotten wet, but couldn't be changed right away then permeates the area. Then, a sudden high-pitched whine, screech, then scream, pierces his ears, the dull ringing of tinnitus makes his head pound. That monster, Gluttony, it’s vice-like claws looming over him, screeches:

    _ggGRrraAAAAhhHH—_

   His surroundings are erased one by one. Soon, nothing exists but that cold, dank cave, the water dripping from the stalactites, ripples on puddles that had consequences farther than the eye could see. He calls out your name again, and again, but no one answers. A sickening feeling overtakes him—that smell like when he would peel the gauze off his wounds in order to re-wrap them making him nauseous as it chokes the air.

    The world spins around him, and he stumbles, he has to lean on a nearby shopping cart to regain his bearings. He feels the wild shadows slowly come, bringing their oddly girlish, animal, twisted laughter.

   And then he hears you call his name.

   “Nanu?”

   The world is bright again when he hears your voice, the shadows receding into nothingness as you repeat his name. He heads over to the voice’s source.

   “Where’d you vanish off to, girl?” Nanu asks the air, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

   Mischievously, you suddenly place your hands around his eyes; a beat too late for the kahuna to be taken entirely by surprise. Nanu could not see you, but he could hear that familiar rhythm of your feet on the ground that you had when you thought you were doing something funny, and were calmed.

     _“Surprise!_ I was thinking—” you say, laughing now, as you rock back and forth in your heels— “About getting these!”

     With a little proud flourish, you then uncover his eyes to reveal you’re holding up two pairs of fuzzy slippers, one black, one white, both adorned with adorably kitschy caricatures of variously colored Meowth.

    “I got two pairs, so..." Your clear eyes crinkle up as you smile widely at him, and he realizes the reason for the delay; you’ve changed into another outfit. It’s cute. “So, we can match—aren’t these great? _You_ can have a pair, and _I_ can have a pair! Those slippers you're wearing are getting worn out.”

   Incredulous first at his own foolish panic, then at your wanton playfulness, the older man looks at the slippers, then at your profile and can’t find words. You talk as if you believe every word you say.

   You then pause, discouraged by his lack of reaction. “You don’t like them…”

   Grabbing you by the small of your waist, Nanu pulls you in close. “You're just too damn cute, you know that...?"

    “H-hey, stop that!” Suddenly, he’s lifted you off your feet, your legs dangle underneath you at he holds you up briefly by your waist. Your feet kick back and forth like someone who has just learned to swim. He playfully growls as he whirls you around, and you laugh in response: “They’re _just_ sandals!”

   You look up at him with the eyes of a girl reaching up to be kissed. So after looking at your pretty mouth, he covers it at once.

   “Ah!”

   He won’t hear a word more about these sandals because you are too beautiful and he loves you and now he is happy and willing to live.

   “And that’s all you want...?” he asks you when you are on the ground.

   “All I want is this," you affirm with a nod, holding up these matching pair of black-and-white slippers. He leans in and can’t resist.

    _And all I want is you._

   Kissing you is like chewing on a soft sweet berry except the soft skin’s all stuck in his teeth.

   “Mph?!"

   You lean your back against his chest. He rubs the soft skin of the palm of your hand with the pad of his thumb, and the two of you interlock hands. The kahuna needs it then, that feeling of real-ness, of an authentic warmth, of knitted wholeness and homecoming, and realizes he could not blame those monsters for being drawn to these women, for they smelled and tasted and felt like home, like everything he had lacked and lost, come back to him all at once.

   Like beams of soft light filtering through the thin cracks of his fingers, he can’t hope to contain you in your entirety. But just once, with the warmth of your hands diffusing into his, Nanu felt like he could hold this very thing in his hands.

    “How are you feeling?” you ask.

     _Alive;_ and you made him feel so. That smile of yours not extinguished, bright behind your eyes, pulls his heart out through his mouth. He could almost feel the imprint your hands had left, warm beneath his own.

    But Nanu’s a man of few words, and doesn’t particularly take great joy in hearing his own raggedy voice, so he chuckles and fails to mention any of these guys things. “All right, girl.” the kahuna says, but then, he adds, “Don’t scare me like that again, you hear…”

    You nod slowly. Nanu then whistles as  
he continues to push the shopping cart, and your bodies knock and bump into each other cat-like, as the two of you slowly walk down the aisles. The warmth of your body is oddly comforting.  As you lean against his chest, he rubs the soft skin on the top of your palm with the pad of his calloused thumb. Years of grueling work have formed callouses that refuse to disappear.

    A old-fashioned, traditional Alolan song comes on over the intercom. The woman sings over the radio with the carefree strum of a ukulele accompanying her. Softly, the low, warbling sound of his whistling carries the tune of the muffled music playing over the speaker.

    You sing softly to the song’s lyrics— it’s not a hard tune to pick up. _“ʻO ka haliʻa aloha i hiki mai, ke hone aʻe nei i kuʻu manawa...”_

    “You know that song too, huh..." he mutters.

      _“Dearest one, yes, you are my own, from you, true love shall never depart...”_ the woman warbles over the static of the intercom. You lean in closer, and he impulsively presses his mouth to your forehead. 

    For one moment, as you sang these words of a last love song, as you sang _be whole,_ while the two of you wandered the empty aisles, foolishly, that wretch thought he would be whole, they would _all_ be whole, they would not be broken people, not any longer, because you were here and singing a song of knitted wholeness and love.

    Perhaps frightened of this, of taking too much relish in his own happiness, he laughs, “Don’t make me too happy, now...”

    “I’ll only make you as happy as you want to be,” you point out; the older man then nods, apparently satisfied with this answer.

    As the two of you continue to walk along the aisles in comforting silence, Nanu resumes his low whistling.  
  
      _Heh. That’s because..._

 _...I’m scared, too._  
  
    Ten fingers interlocked on the handle of the shopping cart.

     _Scared because I can’t bear to see this bright world I shared with you shatter into little futile pieces._

 

* * *

 

     _It’s a 15-minute ride_ on the Charizard Glide from the Thrifty Megamart on Akala Island to the Malie City beach, with views of the city skyline the whole way. You stop at the shoreline and accompanying boardwalk.  
  
     A tourist may find it hard to find a picture of the Ula’ula Island shoreline in the heat of summer that doesn’t look like a still from a Pokestar monster movie, what with the packed beaches and crowded surf and all. Even so, you would be remiss to avoid Malie City during times of celebration— it was the cultural heart of Ula’ula Island, abuzz with the bustling energy of expats, tourists, and locals alike exchanging goods and services.  
  
     This evening, the narrow alleyways of the city are crowded with colorful red paper lanterns, inflatable Wailord and Wailord streamers, and other handmade wares which spill out into the crowded walkways. The two of you meander about the many stalls, while you did your best to forget about the stresses of today and be hopeful for the possibilities of tomorrow.

     Vendors sell bags and bags of different regional specialties and confections, like Old Gateaus, Casteliacones, dark chocolate Sweethearts, and Alolan malasada.

     You had attempted to purchase one such deep fried pastry for the kahuna, joking, “You know, cops and donuts?”

     But the kahuna had rolled his eyes, and a look like he had eaten a sour lemon came over his face. Evidently not.

     After buying a couple of gummy Pecha-Cheri rings from a homemade candy stall for Acerola ( _despite the kahuna’s protests that you’d ‘rot that little girl’s teeth right out of her head’_ ), the two of you retire to a little bench overlooking the shoreline.

     Carried by the wild, rhythmic music playing on the boardwalk, couples dance and sway in the streets and on the hot ruby-red sand of the beach.

You then glance across the shore, and something catches your eye: a happy couple. Their hands are entwined.

     They look happy. In love. 

     Spying this dancing couple next to you, your eyes dart to and from Nanu. You laugh, and hold out your hands. 

     “I’ll dance that way with you, but only if you want to!”

     The kahuna doesn’t say anything, and instead looks off at the horizon. His red eyes are moist.

     You look back at the man and woman. You notice they now held each other as if they feared some invisible force would tear them apart.

     “I’m very happy.” you say softly. Yet he remains still.

     You then peer down at your feet. For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, not even interrupted by the ambient music from the outdoor speakers, which had been turned off. The easy laughter and comfortable atmosphere in the air had vanished, replaced by this unease that was there all along.

You breathe in. Breathe out.

When you breathe in again, the salty air of the ocean deep, you get a lingering, almost longing feeling of wanting to dance under the murky sky, right there, in front of everyone, no matter if a storm were to roll in or not.

     You know you should be wary against being suffocated by love, but _in this very moment,_ you want him to do everything he could just to hold you tight, so that you could feel that he really cared about you, so tight that he brought you out of your mind. You want to feel it; just like before, you want to feel so much love from him that it leaks from your eyes like rain and forms a puddle at your feet.

     You then had a golden moment in which you believed—absolutely believed that you would now tell the kahuna how you absolutely felt, about him, at this very moment—  
  
     Which is then interrupted by a splitting headache. You sway from side to side like the branches of a willow tree.  
  
     He looks alarmed. “What’s gotten into you....?”  
  
     You stumble. The world spins.

     “I’m not feeling well,” you finally admit after a few moments of this awkward, jerky movement. Nanu then put his hand on top of your head, guiding you down, and you then took a seat on the hot sand.

      A sudden ringing emerges from the RotomDex in your pocket, and you pick up.  
  
     “Hey, Champ…” it’s Molayne’s voice. Despite the young man’s usually soft voice, the sharp sound of the electronic whirr from the device makes your head pound. “How are you?”  
  
     “I’m…” Dizzying lights flash behind your eyes. “Okay…”  
  
     The kahuna frowns. You give him a pleading look, _please don’t say anything._ He remains quiet.  
  
     “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” the young man laughs, an uncertain tremor in his voice as he does so. You shake your head.  
  
     “Well, we have good news and bad news. I’ve come up with a possible solution to our power dilemma...”

     “That’s good...” You aren’t aware of it at the time, but you repeat that sentence multiple times to yourself until Nanu shakes you a little. You hadn’t been listening to any of what Molayne was saying, because you couldn’t remember what the solution to the electricity in the town was. You figure Nanu would fill you in later.

     But now Molayne’s voice takes on a troubled undertone. “The bad news is... Guzma’s condition… he’s getting a whole lot worse, and we don’t know why…” You can hear Plumeria’s frantic shouting over the phone. _He must be in the PMC,_ you figure.

      You stand up abruptly. “What?”  
  
      “He fell asleep, and hasn’t woken up the entire day…” he pauses. “Also… Have you talked... to Lillie in a while?”  
  
      You shake your head yet again. “No...”  
  
      “....” His voice takes on an overlay of static.  
  
      BRRZZZT.  
  
      “...sick... not recovering...”  
  
      “What?” You stand where you are for a moment, dazed. You then look at the older man, uncomprehending.  
  
     “Son, you’re cutting in and out,” Nanu then says into the receiver.  “Speak up...”

     No good. His voice takes on more static.  
  
    “Not only that…” Molayne says now, “…. two men and a woman... here to see the kahuna…” The two of you exchange glances, Nanu cocks an wary eyebrow but remains quiet.  
  
     “Molayne, what did you say?” you ask, smushing the phone against your cheek as you do so. “Molayne?”  
  
     BRZZZZZZT.  
  
     You smash the touchpad repeatedly, your RotomDex lets out a cry of protest in response.  

     Something is wrong. All wrong.

     “Molayne?”  
  
     His words become even more garbled. Your heart begins to race.

     “Molayne?” you shout amidst the static. “Molayne, what’s going on?”

     “..said they’re from... _International Police....”_  
  
      The line went dead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes and Comments 
> 
> The “last love song” refers to the song “Aloha Oe” by Queen Lili’uokalani. There’s been a number of renditions over the years, it’s a popular folk song. 
> 
> Alolan/Johtoan Glossary of Terms
> 
> anko: sweet red bean paste 
> 
> Kaiseki (kaiseki-ryōri): a traditional multi-course Japanese dinner. The term also refers to the collection of skills and techniques that allow the preparation of such meals, and is analogous to Western haute cuisine.
> 
> obi: a thick sash typically used to fasten a kimono
> 
> oshizushi: pressed sushi. 
> 
> ume: plum 
> 
> sakura: cherry blossom
> 
> taiyaki: a sweet waffle, shaped in the likeness of a koi fish, griddled and pan fried. Most often filled with anko.
> 
> yukata: a light summer kimono typically worn during times of celebration or festival


End file.
